


taking a chance (on us) was right

by talkplaylove, wearing_tearing



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Princess Diaries Fusion, Captain America Big Bang 2019 | cabigbang, Didn’t Know They Were Dating, Digital Art, Embedded Images, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Long-Haired Bucky Barnes, M/M, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Loki/Thor (Marvel), Minor Sam Wilson/Writer (Antman), Modern Royalty, Mutual Pining, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Prince Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers’s Art Journal, minor off-screen canon character death (Steve’s dad), welcome to our self-indulgence fest 2k19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-26 23:04:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20938229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkplaylove/pseuds/talkplaylove, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearing_tearing/pseuds/wearing_tearing
Summary: Steve looks at the copy of the magazine in his hands. There, in big bold letters were the words:PRINCE OF GENOVIA IN BROOKLYN ALL ALONGThe tragic and unexpected death of His Royal Highness Prince Joseph Grimaldi Rogers Erskine shook Genovia and the entire world, but it seems like not all is lost for the royal line! It has been revealed that Prince Joseph fathered a son seventeen years ago with an emergency nurse, Sarah Rogers. Their child, His Royal Highness Steven Grant Joseph Grimaldi Rogers Erskine, has been living a quiet life in the borough of Brooklyn, New York City, since his birth. It is unclear if Prince Steven has been aware of his princely status for all this time. He is now the next in line for the throne and possible future King of Genovia. No official statements have been made by the Royal House of Genovia or King Abraham Erskine himself.The one where Steve finds out he’s a Prince and doodles frantically on his art journal (mostly about Bucky), Bucky writes love songs (mostly about Steve), they pine, and everyone thinks they’re together—except them, of course.





	taking a chance (on us) was right

**Author's Note:**

> A collaboration for the [Captain America Big Bang 2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/cabigbang2019). Art by [Lenne](https://twitter.com/xlennelx) and beta by [belovedmuerto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedmuerto/pseuds/belovedmuerto)!
> 
> **RJ**: This is actually the first fic wearing_tearing and I started writing together many moons ago, and it was all because of [this IG story](https://twitter.com/talkplaylove9/status/1157948822330343424). I’m so glad it’s finally out here in the world, with amazing art by the lovely Lenne, and I hope you enjoy it as much as all of us had fun working on it! ♥
> 
> **wearing_tearing**: and it’s here! The idea that possessed us and took us a week and also months to write is now ready to be consumed by your eyeballs \o/ this process has been loads of fun, and I’m very proud to have it posted, especially with the beautiful Lenne art! Happy reading, everyone ♥
> 
> **Lenne**: This AU took my breath away and I almost had a heart attack when I got it!! It had always been my dream to draw in panels and with this I got the perfect opportunity to let my dramatic/romantic heart run wild, so I hope you love this story as much as I do!! It's so much fun&fluff!!

“I’m a what now?” Steve asks, very calmly and very politely. There’s an old man in his living room and his mother is sitting on the couch, hands on her lap, eyes flickering between him and the white-haired man.

There’s also a tall, imposing man in a suit with an eyepatch standing behind their couch. His whole being screams “BODYGUARD”. 

“A prince, Steven,” says Abraham Erskine, who is apparently not only Steve’s long-lost grandfather, but also a _ king_. “Specifically, the sole heir of Genovia.”

Steve blinks. That’s all he’s done for the past two minutes: blink and wonder if he’s having another one of his fever dreams.

“Your name is Steven Grant Joseph Grimaldi Rogers Erskine.” Abraham continues. 

“Mom?” Steve turns to her, and his stomach churns when he sees the pale look on her face. Her eyes are bloodshot. 

“This is not how we wanted you to find out,” Sarah rushes to explain. “Your father and I—we were so young when we separated. We thought we’d tell you when the time was rig—” Sarah stops, covering her mouth with one shaking hand. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve has half a mind to ask if this is a joke, but he knows his mother. She wouldn’t. 

He doesn’t know his father that well; only through the occasional Skype calls. Gifts for every birthday and letters when he was younger, but he’d never seemed like a prince. He was just… there. Present, without really being present. 

Except he isn’t, not anymore. 

“Prince?” Steve looks at Abraham again. Distantly, he knows he’s focusing on the wrong thing, the words _ car accident _ and _ gone _still echoing around in his head—but—

Abraham nods. “Your father had health complications many years ago. The resulting treatment meant he could not sire other heirs. This means that you are the next in line in Genovia’s succession.” He looks at Sarah. “We must begin Steven’s education at once.”

Steve frowns. He grasps at the thing he thinks is within his control. Everything else can wait. “I’m already in high school.”

“Your royal education, Steven. As it is my understanding that your parents did not expect this outcome this early—we must teach you the ways of Genovia. Our culture. The royal customs and tradition.” He looks at Steve’s hands, clenched into fists on his knees. “How to sit, walk, talk… are your knuckles bleeding?”

“I can do all those,” Steve says, chin jutting out.

When his mother looks at his knuckles and sighs, he gives an apologetic shrug. “They had the Parker kid near the dumpster.”

“Well,” Abraham says, clapping his hands once. “We’ve got some work to do.”

**

“My life is over,” Steve sighs as he flops down on his bed, voice muffled by his bedspread.

Between Abraham’s steady voice and his mother’s pleading looks, Steve somehow agreed to taking Prince Lessons after school, so Abraham can teach him how to _ behave properly_. Like Steve doesn’t already know how to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and help old ladies cross the street and stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.

He refuses to think about the other thing, locking it in a chest in a corner of his mind. Locked away where car crashes and drunk drivers belong.

Captain Howlie glances up at him from his spot in the middle of the bed, tail wagging once before he quiets down again. Steve pats him between the ears. Sometimes he wishes Howlie would appreciate his dramatics, but after retiring from being a service dog, maybe he just doesn’t have the energy anymore. Also, Steve figures he has Bucky for that.

“Oh my _ god _,” Steve groans. “I’m gonna have to tell him.”

Steve doesn’t want to think about how Bucky will react to _ this _ kind of news. Being best friends since childhood will probably be the only thing that keeps him from freaking the fuck out. He’s been by Steve’s side through skinned knees and swallowed pennies, through pimples and first boners, through hangovers and filling out college applications. He’ll probably get past this too. At least Steve sure as fuck hopes so.

Steve doesn’t know what he’d do without Bucky in his life. And that’s not only because he’s been in love with Bucky for years.

“Things will be okay, right?” Steve asks Howlie.

Howlie gives Steve’s bare wrist a lick in reply. With a sigh, Steve buries his head on his pillow. He might as well suffocate now; his life is already _ ruined_.

**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

Drawings of a bag of Doritos, a fluffy Mr. Bunny, a Dracula movie-esque castle with question marks all over it, a detailed crown, and an angry bodyguard with an eyepatch stick figure. Above and around the drawings are the words:

**5 Reasons I, Steven Grant Rogers, ** **CAN’T** ** be a ** **PRINCE** **:**

  1. Am opposed to any form of government that isn’t chosen by the people.
  2. Resources would be wasted. (_I don’t need a bodyguard. I can take care of myself.)_
  3. Don’t even know where Genovia is???? Or that it really exists????
  4. Shouldn’t be responsible for an entire country. (_Not after the 3rd grade Pet Incident when Mr. Bunny was supposed to come home with me, but I lost him on the way home._)
  5. Too addicted to Cool Ranch Doritos.

**

Steve stares at his reflection in the mirror. His bangs fall over his forehead, bringing attention to the sharpness of his cheekbones, his pointy chin, and his crooked nose—the latter a souvenir from all the fights he’s gotten into. His blue eyes feel too big for the thinness of his face, and his shirt still hangs a little longer than it’s actually supposed to for an extra-small. 

“Well,” Steve shrugs and makes a face at himself, “this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

Steve grabs his backpack from the floor, carefully slipping his art journal inside it and making sure he hasn’t forgotten to grab his Physics book. Checking the clock, he sees he still has some time to grab breakfast, even though he’s not exactly looking forward to facing his Ma today.

Maybe he could sneak out. His bedroom is only on the second floor, and he doubts he’d get _ too _ hurt if he jumped out of the window.

“Steve!” his mother calls and knocks on his door, effectively ruining any and all runaway plans Steve has. “Come down for breakfast, please. I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t wanna talk to _ you_,” Steve grumbles under his breath, and then immediately feels guilty for mouthing off to his mother. “In a minute!” he yells back, taking a deep breath and preparing himself. He doubts whatever his mother has to say to him will be worse than him finding out he’s a _ prince_, so he can do this. Totally.

Sarah sits at the table, her hands folded in front of her. She has dark circles under her eyes, which Steve notices when he stomps into the kitchen, and it's obvious she’s been crying. Her cheeks always look puffy after tears.

“Sweetie,” his mother starts, taking a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “We should talk.”

“About how you’ve been lying to me my entire life?”

“_Steven_,” she warns him, face pinched with disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” Steve apologizes, because he is. Yes, he’s angry at them, but the rational part of his brain knows his Ma wouldn’t have done all of this without a good reason. “But you know I’m right,” he adds, jutting his chin up. “Why did you… just _ why_?”

Sarah takes a deep breath, as if she was bracing herself. “I loved your father, but we weren’t right for each other,” She begins fidgeting with a napkin, tearing it apart with her fingers. “I’ve told you about how we met.”

“NYU. You met during class, started dating, and...”

“Fell in love,” Sarah finishes. “I didn’t know he was a prince, not at first. He told me a couple of months after we got together. It didn’t… it didn’t really change anything, not for me. His life in New York was very different from the one he led in Genovia. There weren’t as many… expectations. And then I got pregnant with you.” 

“What happened?” Steve asks. He knows the story, or at least the Royal-free version of it.

“That’s when we found out that we weren’t quite as right for each other as we first thought,” she says. “Having a baby changes things. Our relationship didn’t… it wasn’t meant to be. We loved each other, but we thought it’d be best if we didn’t force being together. It wouldn’t be fair to any of us, you included. I wanted a career, a life. He respected that, and he knew a quiet happily ever after wasn’t in the cards for us. Genovia...at that time Genovia, wouldn’t accept a foreign queen, anyway.”

“So he left,” Steve says with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Because we agreed that’s what he was going to do,” Sarah says gently. “We made all of our decisions together. We thought it’d be better for you if I raised you here, in New York, so you could have a childhood without everyone scrutinizing your every move. That was something your dad insisted on: normalcy. And then, when you turned 18, we planned on telling you about your heritage. It wasn’t really supposed to change anything; you could’ve gone on with whatever you wanted to do. We weren’t married, you weren’t officially in line for the throne. You were never supposed to have a kingdom’s expectations on your shoulders. But...”

“But?” Steve asks.

“A few years ago, your dad had chemo for testicular cancer. Before that, he had planned on marrying and having children but....” Sarah shrugs sadly. Steve isn’t close with his father, but his ma did keep in contact with him after all these years. Apparently, more contact than even Steve knew. “He wasn’t able to have an heir after the procedure.”

“So what?” Steve shakes his head. “It’s down to me, then? How long ago was this?”

His mother looks down at her lap and bites her lip. “Nine years.”

Nine years. His fate had changed course and was determined for him _ nine years ago. _ “You could’ve told me. When he got sick, you could’ve told me. _ He _ could’ve told me.” Steve says, upset. His emotions are bubbling inside his chest; a tempest. His life is spiraling out of control, his mom’s been lying to him for years, he’d never get to hear his father explain what he was thinking. “So what, you both just agreed that you could lie to me for my entire life?”

“We just wanted what was best for you,” Sarah answers, eyes wet with tears. “We agreed not to change when to tell you, not yet—we wanted you to enjoy your childhood as much as you could, especially because things had changed.”

Steve can't take this. “I'll be late for school.” He grabs his backpack off the floor.

“Steve,” Sarah tries, standing up to reach for him. Steve ducks away, hurriedly walking out the door and into the street. Without knowing it, he's running, lungs burning, heart racing in his chest, his feet taking him somewhere familiar, somewhere where his world hasn’t crashed and turned upside down.

Somewhere safe.

**

“Took you awhile,” Bucky says. He’s standing under the lamppost on the street corner where he always waits for Steve on before they walk to school, hands in his leather jacket’s pockets. He looks criminally good, as he always does. 

But even Bucky’s whole everything can’t calm Steve down today. 

“Sorry,” Steve says. His heart is still thumping angrily in his chest from the run.

Bucky looks at him. “You okay, punk?”

_ I'm a prince. My parents are lying liars. My dad—. “ _Fine,” Steve says, tone clipped. 

“Really?” Bucky gives him a long, searching look. Steve avoids looking at Bucky straight on. He knows that looking into Bucky’s gray eyes would make him falter, would make him tell his best friend everything, even if he isn’t even sure of how to parse _ anything _ about what he’s learned about himself the last few hours. He’s going to end up blubbering nonsense, turning red until he can’t breathe. 

It’s happened before. 

Steve hoists his backpack up on his shoulders. Instead of answering, he says, “Let's go, we're late.”

They walk together. In his peripheral vision, Steve can see Bucky continuing to throw him worried looks. Immediately, guilt crawls up Steve’s stomach and curls around his insides. Bucky didn't do anything wrong to deserve this treatment. 

Steve takes a deep breath.

“Buck?” 

“Yeah?” 

Steve breathes out, shoulders slowly relaxing. He looks at Bucky form the corner of his eye. “Sorry for being a jerk.” 

Bucky snorts. His shoulder bumps against Steve's gently as they walk. “I'm used to it. Now will you tell me what's wrong?”

Steve pauses, unsure how to describe the events of the last 15 or so hours to Bucky. He licks his lips; he _ does _want to tell Bucky, that much he knows, but he isn’t sure how. “Everything’s fine.”

“Alright, stop.” Bucky says, placing a hand on his shoulder and turning Steve around to face him. He looks at Steve straight in the eye.

Steve feels the bottom drop out of his stomach in one exhilarating swoop. 

“Did your ma find your porn again?”

Steve flushes, the tips of his ears burning. “No!”

“Then—”

“I met my grandfather,” Steve blurts out. Okay, that was a good start, right? He’ll work his way to mentioning that his grandfather was the monarch of some small country in Europe. Hopefully without waving his arms around and turning as red as a tomato and needing his inhaler. 

Bucky’s jaw drops. “Did you see a ghost?”

Steve groans, remembering that the only grandfather Bucky knows Steve has was Papaw, who died ten years ago. Why did he like Bucky so much again? He turns and pushes Bucky forward, subtly reminding him that they still have to go to school. “No, my grandfather from my dad’s side.” 

His dad. That’s something he has to tell Bucky about too.

“Holy shit? Steve, that’s huge! What’s he like?”

“He’s…”_ A king_, Steve’s mind supplies. “Okay.”

“Wait, what’s he suddenly doing here?” Bucky asks, looking behind his shoulder at Steve.

Breathe in. Breathe out. “Tell you later?”

Bucky stops walking, pivoting on his heels to face Steve. He looks at Steve, gaze intense, understanding. Even if Steve isn’t telling him anything, he knows something’s _ really _wrong. “Steve, whatever it is, I’m here.” He opens his arms, drawing Steve into a hug, right there in the middle of the sidewalk like it’s some mushy teen TV show. 

Steve melts into it, of course. It’s _ Bucky. _

He breathes in the scent of Bucky, and Bucky’s favorite leather jacket. If time could stop for just a few minutes, it would be great. He’s not saying the universe owes him anything, but given the truth bombs he’s learned recently, it would be cool, you know? 

“Buck?”

“Yeah?” Bucky says. Steve feels the rumble in his chest when he speaks.

“We’re really late now.”

Bucky snorts, releasing him. “Alright, punk.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, looking at a crack on the sidewalk, then up at Bucky from under his bangs.

Bucky shakes his head. “You know I’m always here for you.” He pulls his backpack strap higher on one shoulder. He glances at his wristwatch, a gift from his dad last year, giving a low whistle. “We are _ so _late. Race ya.”

“Cheater!” Steve yells after him as Bucky darts off, heart already feeling just a little bit lighter than when he left home this morning. 

  
**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

A page full of sketches of Bucky Barnes eyes, each seeming to convey a different expression.

**

Steve can do this. 

He just solved an entire Algebra exercise sheet with minimum grumbling and mostly by himself, so he can figure out a way to tell Bucky about his dad and his little Royalty problem. Really. He can. He might just be having a hard time coming up with the words to say what he needs to say and make sure Bucky understands how terrible all of this is.

Although, Bucky always just _ gets him_. It’s one of the reasons Steve likes him so much. Sometimes they can just look at each other and know what the other is thinking. No words necessary. So maybe Steve can just make a paper crown and put it on his head and Bucky will _ know _.

“What’s troubling you, darling?” Peggy asks, gently nudging Steve’s arm with her elbow.

Steve flushes a little, because this is _ Peggy Carter _ and she just called him _ darling _, but also because he hates being caught when he’s feeling vulnerable.

“Nothing. Just some family stuff.”

Peggy tsks and nods in understanding. They’ve been Algebra buddies since Peggy moved from England to New York a year ago, after her parents went through a messy divorce. If anyone knows about ‘family stuff’ and how awful it can be, it’s Peggy.

“Anything I can help with?” Peggy asks.

Steve flushes a shade deeper, because this is _ Peggy Carter _ and she wants to _ help him _, but he shakes his head. “Nah. I gotta deal with it alone. Thank you, though.”

“I’m sure everything will be alright,” Peggy says, flashing him a smile. 

Steve wishes he had her optimism, because it doesn’t look like things will _ ever be alright again_.

Class drags on, and Steve almost jumps out of his seat when the bell rings for next period. He’s slow to gather his things, watching with a longing smile when Peggy meets Angie by the door and gives her a kiss. It hurts a little bit, watching the girl he used to have a huge crush on be happy with her girlfriend, but Steve is glad they have each other.

He also has way more important things to worry about.

**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

**Things to do before lunch:**

Figure out a way to tell Bucky the Thing

English homework

Return library books

Figure out a way to tell Bucky the Thing

Get _ Buffy _ DVDs back from Nat

FIGURE OUT!!! A WAY!!!! TO TELL BUCKY!!!! THE THING!!!!

THE THING dominates the page, written in a lettering style reminiscent of paint (or slime) (or blood) dripping. 

**

Steve figures out a way to tell Bucky the Thing when he’s rushing to English class. The problem is that he can’t find Bucky _ anywhere _ and Bucky isn’t answering his texts. Maybe he left his phone at home again, the dummy.

Part of Steve’s problem is solved when he spots Clint’s blond head coming towards him. Steve stops him with a hand on his arm, tugging him towards the lockers and away from the crowd of people walking through the hallway.

“I need you to do me a fav-,” Steve starts, but stops speaking when Clint points at his hearing aids. He usually turns them off in between periods, since the loud noises from people walking around, chattering, and slamming their lockers shut hurts his ears. “_I need you to do me a favor_,” Steve signs instead. “_Can you pass Bucky a note for me_?”

“_Sure,_” Clint signs back. “_Can I read it_?”

Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head no. He reaches into his pocket for the note and presses it into Clint’s hand. “_Do it as soon as you see him, please? I need to talk to him during lunch._”

Clint nods and gives Steve a thumbs up before they both go their separate ways. 

Steve tries to focus during English class, he really does, but all his stupid brain wants to think about is how Bucky is going to react when Steve tells him what’s going on. He knows things will probably be fine, just like Peggy said. This is _ Bucky _. But still, a teeny tiny part of Steve’s mind insists on holding on to the possibility that maybe Bucky will hate him.

The thought is so scary that Steve accidentally ends up punching his pencil through his copy of _ The Diary of Anne Frank_.

Great. Just another thing to add to the list of stuff that’s gone wrong in Steve’s life.

**

**[Found in: Bucky Barnes’ left pants pocket]**

A folded piece of notebook paper. One side is scribbled on in messy cursive,_ in between books / we’ve found a little nook / ???? hook ?? ask nat if lyrics make sense _

Inside the note were the words, written in print: 

_ B _

_ Library @ lunch _

_ Stacks 904 & 905 _

_ \- S _

**

Bucky slips into the library a few minutes after the lunch bell rings. He walks over to Steve’s chosen area, glancing around for his best friend. Steve’s not there yet. He shrugs and leans against the bookshelf, eyes wandering over the history books in front of him. 

He wonders what Steve has to tell him. His palms begin to sweat and his heart speeds up in his chest. Maybe, maybe, Steve will finally tell him he loves Bucky as more than just a friend like Bucky lo—he yelps as a cold hand grabs him by the wrist, yanking him out of his daydream. Steve immediately shushes him by pressing a finger to Bucky’s lips, which, totally uncalled for. Even if it does feel really nice.

“Don’t be too loud, we might get caught.” Steve hisses at him. 

“You _ surprised _me,” Bucky says accusingly. “And it’s not like we’re doing anything to be caught for.” He pauses, heart beating fast in his chest. There’s a small tone of hopefulness as he asks, “Will we?”

Bucky can already see it: he and Steve, between the stacks, leaning in for a— 

“What? No.” Steve looks at him in the eye. He takes a deep breath, setting his shoulders back. Classic signs of Steve Rogers settling in for a fight—or a long argument. 

“Bucky.” Steve says, jaw clenching once. “I’m a prince.”

Bucky blinks. “What?”

“I’m a prince. Of a small country in Europe. That’s why my grandfather came to see me yesterday.” Steve explains, right hand tugging at his left sleeve. Bucky’s eyes drop to Steve’s sleeve, seeing the telltale sign for what it is—Steve’s nervous. Steve’s almost never nervous. 

Oh my _ god_.

“Are you serious?” Bucky asks.

“I swear on Captain Howlie,” Steve says solemnly. 

“Woah.” Bucky says, because Steve would never do that if he wasn’t 100% _ not _ joking. “You all right?”

And it must have been the right thing to say, because Steve almost crumples in relief, his stiff shoulders sagging, the tight lines at the corners of his mouth loosening. 

“I don’t know.” Steve rubs a hand against his eyes. “I might be in charge of a small country in the near future, Buck.”

Bucky winces and then does what he does best. He opens his arms and asks, “Need another hug?” 

“I’m not gonna say no,” Steve says, smiling at him a little. 

This wasn’t what Bucky envisioned when he came here—a _ prince_, what the hell—but Steve’s in his arms again, and he’ll take his little wins where he can get them. Especially when it means he can bury his face in Steve’s hair and breathe him in.

Quietly, so quiet that Bucky doesn't even notice it at first, Steve starts sniffling into his shirt. Bucky’s heart drops—he never wants to see Steve sad, and either Steve is taking this news really hard, or something else happened. His arms tighten around Steve reflexively.

“Steve,” he whispers.

“My dad died.” Steve whispers, voice soft. 

Bucky’s heart twinges. “Oh, Steve.”

**

Steve’s heart stutters to a standstill at the words that worked their way out of his mouth. _ His dad died. _

He shivers, wanting to take them back—_he didn’t say it, he didn’t say it, it didn’t happen. _ But the words are out there and it’s _ real_. As real as the smell of Bucky’s jacket under his nose, the feel of Bucky’s hand moving in slow circles around his back, warm and comforting. 

Steve closes his eyes and gives himself over to the emotion, letting out small, broken sobs. He lets himself _ feel, _let the emotions he’s been burying and ignoring and hiding in a locked chest in the corner of his mind out.

He was never close to his father. His dad sent letters, the rare phone call, and sometimes a photo. He thought it was normal, that all dads were photos and letters—until he was five years old and wide-eyed and meeting Bucky and his family for the first time, he realized it wasn’t. 

He’d asked. His mom had sat him on her lap and told him everything—the royal-free version of it, anyway. It was okay; Steve really didn’t feel like anything was missing. He had his ma, he had Bucky. He had Bucky’s family. Technology got better and he was able to even see and talk to his dad on Skype sometimes. But the conversations were brief; Steve never really got to know him—even if his dad seemed to know all about him, skinned knees and bloody knuckles, his friends and his grades, whether he liked oranges or apples better. 

His dad had visited twice: once when Steve was six, a year after Steve asked about seeing him in person. Steve can’t really remember much, but he remembers seeing the tall, blond man in person for the first time (not just a photo!) and the sound of his loud laughter. They all went to Disney World then. The other time was when Steve was eight; they watched Beauty and the Beast on Broadway, and his dad had gently told him he wouldn’t be able to visit Steve for a long time. In person or online, his dad really wasn't the type to talk a lot about himself, instead focusing on Steve and random things like telling him all about the weather in Europe, the color of plums in harvest, and how he was proud that Steve doesn’t back down from doing what he thinks is right. Now, looking back, Steve realizes that these were all neutral topics his dad could talk at length about without busting out the royalty secret.

Steve cries for the man he never got the chance to know and for the man he did. 

There’ll be no more Skype calls and letters. 

**

The sound of a throat clearing makes them jump apart. "Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers," Ms. Danvers says, pushing up her cat-eye glasses. She looks at Steve, a little worried. There’s a split-second where Steve thinks she’s about to ask if he’s alright, and he can’t, not right now— 

“Sorry, Ms. Danvers,” Bucky says, knowing exactly what Steve needs. “We’ll be going now.” 

Steve lets himself be led out by the wrist, trying to inconspicuously wipe his eyes with his sleeve. 

**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

**Things to do before lunch:**

Figure out a way to tell Bucky the Thing

English homework

Return library books

Figure out a way to tell Bucky the Thing

Get _ Buffy _ DVDs back from Nat

FIGURE OUT!!! A WAY!!!! TO TELL BUCKY!!!! THE THING!!!!

On the page next to the list is a sketch of two boys hugging in between the stacks of a library. Outside the windows, inexplicably, are falling plums.

**

When the bell rings, Steve’s heart is much lighter than it was. He’s feeling okay enough that he makes sure to drop by Natasha's last class to grab his Buffy DVDs. It's not that he really needs them today, it's just that... a _ little _time before going home and facing his New Reality™ and his Ma would be nice.

When he gets there, Clint is signing away at Nat, face full of glee. He’s sitting at the edge of Nat’s desk while Nat's got a smirk on her red lips, her chin settled on her hand. 

“Hey,” Steve says, walking up to the table as students stream past him. 

Both of them turn to him with expectant faces, like they’re one entity. It’s a little unnerving.

“Everything all right?” Steve asks, signing at the same time. 

“You tell us,” Nat says instead, eyes looking around at the remaining students left in the room. As if sensing her eyes on them, they speed up packing their things and leave, Quill almost stumbling at the door.

Once they’re alone in the classroom, Clint puts his hearing aids on. 

“Well?” Clint asks expectantly, lifting his hands up. Like he’s expecting some big news.

Steve’s heart starts beating faster. _ Did Bucky—? _ No, Bucky would never tell anyone his secrets. 

“Well what?” Steve says, striving for calm. He’s calm. He’s cool. He’s collected.

Nat raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you have something important to tell us?”

“Like what?”

Nat is scary and Steve is about 93% sure she could pull all of his secrets out of him with a flick of her pinky, but he’s holding on to this one. He already told Bucky about his dad and his new Prince status and that’s as many people as he’s willing to share his secret with today.

That can be his new goal: tell one person a day that he’s royalty. Maybe when he reaches 30, he’ll finally get through telling all of his friends.

“Like Bucky…” Clint trails off, his excitement tapering off to disappointment when Steve just blinks at him. “Aw, Steve.”

“_What _?” Steve hisses. “Nothing is going on with Bucky.”

Much to Steve’s disappointment, really.

“Then why do you look so shifty?” Nat asks, her eyes narrowed.

“I am _ not _ shifty,” Steve says. And then he shifts in place. “Did you bring my DVDs today?”

Steve is so smooth. He’s like silk.

“Aw, diversion.” Clint says, shaking his head. He grabs his backpack from his own chair. “Give it a rest, Tasha. Steve doesn’t want to share with the class.” 

“It’s not that,” Steve lies, because that’s kind of exactly what it is. If he could keep this secret forever, he would. “Just… not today,” he admits quietly. He’s done as much secret telling as he can handle today.

Natasha softens a little at that and gives him a nod. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“And by that we mean: tomorrow?” Clint pipes up.

Steve bites back a laugh but agrees, “Okay. Tomorrow.”

Nat hands over the DVDs to Steve. Steve can’t help feeling she’s vaguely disappointed in him.

**

Steve drags his feet on the way home. He’s never been this mad at his Ma before. Growing up, it had only been the two of them, and while Steve’s Ma had never told him how hard it was to raise him alone, or told him that she’s sacrificed a lot just for him, Steve knows. He wasn’t an easy kid, but his Ma’s always been there for him.

The lies—the omission still hurts, though.

And maybe that’s it. He’s not angry at her for choosing to give him the best possible childhood she could. He’s just angry that she and his dad kept this huge and life-changing secret from him until his grandfather came knocking. Or, should Steve say, the _ King of Genovia _ came knocking.

Steve stalls for a few minutes before heading inside. He’s instantly slapped in the face with the smell of chocolate chip cookies, the scent carrying through the air and warming up his soul.

Steve scowls. His Ma isn’t playing fair. That’s Steve’s _ favorite_.

“Steve, is that you?” Sarah calls out from the kitchen, the clinking of forks drawing out her voice.

Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He can do this. “Yeah, coming!”

His Ma smiles when he steps into the kitchen, a hesitant and sort of wobbly smile Steve isn’t used to seeing from her. The sight of it makes him realize that his Ma is suffering right now too—no matter how her relationship with his dad turned out, they were friends. They remained friends. This couldn’t be easy for her either. 

But still. 

“How was school?” she asks while she sets the table.

Steve shrugs. “Fine.”

Sarah sighs and pulls up a chair, gesturing for Steve to sit across from her. Steve does, if only because he doesn’t feel like picking a fight with her just now. They’re already _ kind of _ fighting, anyway.

“I’m sorry for how things turned out,” Sarah says with a sad smile. “I never meant to hurt you, Steve. We never meant to.”

Steve swallows hard and scowls down at the flowery fabric of their tablecloth. He knows his Ma would never do anything to hurt his feelings intentionally, but here they are.

And, okay. Maybe that’s not really fair. He knows she only had his best interest at heart.

“I know,” Steve reluctantly admits. “I just wish I hadn’t found out like this.”

“Me too. I would give anything to change what happened, but I can’t.”

Steve nods. What’s done is done, and all he can do right now is deal with it. Or… not deal with it, change his name, and go live in New Jersey. That sounds better than ruling a country and Bucky could still come visit him.

(Steve’s sure that Bucky likes him more than they hate New Jersey. Bucky told him so.) 

“Ma…” Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, finally bringing his gaze up to stare at his Ma. “Please don’t ever do something like that again.”

“I won’t,” Sarah promises. She reaches out and grabs one of Steve’s hands in her own and gives it a squeeze. “Promise.”

“So no more life-changing secrets for me?”

“None.”

“You’re not gonna tell me I secretly own an island on top of being royalty?”

His Ma pauses. “Well…”

“Oh my god,” Steve groans, covering his face with his hands.

Sarah laughs, the sound a little shaky, but her eyes are shining with relief “It comes with the title. I’m sure your grandfather will explain it all to you during your lessons.”

This time, when Steve groans, it’s for an entirely different reason.

He forgot about the Prince Lessons.

_ Ugh._

**

The car is sleek and black and pretty nondescript, which surprises Steve. Okay, so Steve assumed it would be a flashy Porsche or a limousine with tiny flags surrounding it, all an environmental hazard, which would be another con against this whole royal business. But it isn’t so he isn’t sure what to do with that. 

“Your Highness,” Fury says, opening the back door for him.

“Steve,” Steve says automatically, jaw clenched. “My name is Steve.” He slips into the backseat, adjusting his journal in his back pocket. 

“Of course. Your Highness Steve.” Fury shuts the door before Steve can reply.

Abraham is staying at the penthouse of The Ritz. There’s a Glam Crew of hairdressers, makeup artists, and stylists seated in the living area, all dressed in black. Steve feels like he’s in a reality show. Which, honestly— 

“Am I in a reality show?” he asks, amazed that he _ didn’t _think to ask it before. “Am I getting Punk’d?” 

Abraham gives him a small smile, tinged with sadness around the edges. “No, Steven.” He gestures to the people behind him. “They will help you tweak your image a little, for introduction to the public.”

Steve snorts. 

“Well, we need to get you clothes that fit, for one.” A young woman says, eyeing him critically. “And a haircut, too.” 

“I’m Maria,” she says, shaking his hand. Steve barely has any time to reply before she’s pointing him towards a man with blond hair and streaks at the tips. He moves closer to Steve and produces a measuring tape out of nowhere, ushering Steve into one of the rooms, already talking about a sample wardrobe their company had brought over based on his style (his mother sent over what he likes) and needing to get his measurements to make customized pieces for events. 

Steve’s torn between making a fuss and standing still. He knows these people are only here to do their job (which unfortunately, means assessing him and dressing him up and cutting his hair and putting things on his face—what the hell is moisturizer and _ why _does he need it?), but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

He makes do by putting on a very grumpy face as he watches his hair get trimmed in the mirror, one that prompts the hair stylist to tell him to “Smile. If I came into that much money, my family’s debt would be paid.” which also makes Steve feel _ guilty _, now too. 

“It’s just hard to take in,” Steve grumbles.

“That’s life, sweetheart.” She tells him, standing back and eyeing the back of his head critically. She looks into the mirror and meets his eyes, and gives him a small smile. “Try to enjoy it for the people like us.”

Steve shrugs. He’s not really there yet. He lets her do as he pleases with his hair though, giving him a shorter style than he’s ever had since first grade when Brock had mistakenly grabbed his head instead of the basketball. 

He puts his foot down on getting highlights.

**

“May we present,” Maria, who Steve finds out is an _ Image Manager, _ says. The rest of the Glam Crew are standing in front of him, obscuring him from the rest of the room. He refused to do a runway walk, so this was the solution they came up with instead. “His Royal Highness, Prince Steven of Genovia.”

Like a flower opening its petals for the first time, the Glam Crew spread apart and reveal Steve. 

Fury is standing behind the room’s plush white sofa, hands behind his back. He looks as imposing as ever, face revealing nothing. Meanwhile, Abraham is smiling, pleased at the efforts of the team.

Maria leads Steve towards one of the unit’s floor to ceiling mirrors. Steve closes his eyes, wondering if he’d recognize the person he’ll see there. He knows how his hair looks, at least a little before the stylist moved his chair, worked on his bangs, and then asked him nicely not to look at the result yet. He also didn’t bother looking at how his new clothes fit. His old clothes fit just fine, thank you. 

“How do you like it?” The stylist asks, voice tinged with glee. 

Steve reminds himself that these people are only doing their jobs and any frustration about the circumstances shouldn’t be leveled at them. He opens his eyes.

And almost takes a step back at what he sees. 

He can actually _ see _his eyes now without bangs getting in the way. His clothes are the same style as the ones he usually wears, a graphic tee and a shirt, but they fit more comfortably against his shoulders and abdomen now, like they’re actually for someone his size and not a Large at the children’s section. 

He… still looks like himself, just with shorter hair. 

Huh. 

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Abraham asks, walking up next to him. 

Steve shrugs. “I guess.” He turns to the Glam Crew, because Sarah Rogers didn’t raise an impolite child. Also, it really isn’t _ that _bad. “Thank you. This… is pretty cool.”

Once the Glam Crew leaves, Abraham tells Steve about the Prince Lessons he’ll be receiving for an hour and a half every day in order to learn about Genovia’s culture, their political policies, the people in power, and “How To Act Like A Royal”. Steve feels like he just got signed up for an extra class. 

He even goes home with _ homework_, a Powerpoint presentation of all the current political figures in Genovia complete with photos, names, titles, and an extensive list of what they’ve done for the country with links out to further reading. He makes faces at the slides on the ride home. When he looks up at the rearview mirror, Fury is looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

Steve flushes at being caught making faces at an inanimate object and goes back to reading about Genovia’s great healthcare policies, implemented by… someone who happens to be his grandfather. 

**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

A drawing of a dancing monkey riding a unicycle.

On his head rests a crooked crown.

**

“Is this really necessary?” Steve asks as he adjusts his bag over his shoulders.

Fury doesn’t bother with a reply. He stares at Steve with his one good eye while slowly opening the limousine door and gesturing inside.

Steve blinks, and then politely climbs inside. He has an inkling it might not be the best of ideas to make Fury… well, _ furious_. Maybe that’s even where he gets his name from.

“So,” Steve says after a few minutes of them driving in silence, “how are you this morning?”

Fury glances at him through the rearview mirror. “I’m fine, Your Highness.”

“Cool,” Steve replies. “Cool, cool, cool. I’m fine too, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t,” Fury says, much to Steve’s shock, “but thank you for sharing. Your Highness.”

Steve presses his lips together, torn between offense and amusement. “Well, okay.”

“I’m glad we’ve reached this understanding.” Fury gives him a nod. “Are we picking up any of your friends today?”

“No. Bucky has band practice. Not that he’s in the _ school _ band,” Steve rushes to clarify. “It’s a separate band, with our friends Nat and Clint. They’re called Totally Spies. Bucky writes their songs. He’s really good.”

“Wonderful,” Fury deadpans. “We will arrive in ten minutes.”

“Oh, that’s—” Steve gets cut off by the sound of the partition slowly sliding up until it completely separates him and Fury. “Rude,” he murmurs, leaning back against the leather seats.

It’s a long ride to school.

**

When they get to S.H.I.E.L.D., the reason for Fury’s… furious… mood becomes apparent. There are dozens of people outside their school grounds, camera crew, reporters, and paparazzi. There are a couple of news vans parked across the way. 

“Oh my god,” Steve says, mouth dropping at the cacophony outside his window. CNN and FOX news are outside his campus. He wonders if some kind of scandal broke out. Maybe they finally figured out that Mr. Zola is actually a Nazi.

Fury flicks a glance at him in the rearview mirror, one eyebrow lifting. “Your Highness, I will escort you into the premises today.”

“That’s not necessary,” Steve says, frowning. He’s a teenager. He’s capable of walking inside his own damn school. Sure, it might be a little difficult to squeeze in past the reporters, but he can make it. He has sharp elbows. 

“With all due respect, this is not up for negotiation. The security threat is too high.” Fury says, and there’s something in his voice that actually sounds like he’s a little bit sorry for Steve.

“What security threat?” Steve asks. 

Giving him a judgmental look, Fury reaches over the front seat for a magazine. He passes it to Steve. Steve didn’t think his 6’2 tall bodyguard would enjoy reading about the lives of celebrities, but hey, to each his own. When Steve actually looks at the copy of OK! in his hands, his eyes widen at the headline, heart beating thrice as fast then dropping like a stone into his stomach.

There, in big bold letters were the words, **A CINDERELLA STORY: PRINCE OF GENOVIA IN BROOKLYN ALL ALONG. **Steve quickly scans the article, stomach dropping at every passing sentence.

> _ The tragic and unexpected death of His Royal Highness Prince Joseph Grimaldi Rogers Erskine shook Genovia and the entire world, but it seems like not all is lost for the royal line! It has been revealed that Prince Joseph fathered a son seventeen years ago with an emergency nurse, Sarah Rogers. Their child, His Royal Highness Steven Grant Joseph Grimaldi Rogers Erskine, has been living a quiet life in the borough of Brooklyn, New York City, since his birth. It is unclear if Prince Steven has been aware of his princely status for all this time. He is now the next in line for the throne and possible future King of Genovia. No official statements have been made by the Royal House of Genovia or King Abraham Erskine himself. _

“My life is ruined.” Steve groans. He drops the newspaper next to him in the footwell, while his other hand grasps for his mobile phone to connect to his school’s WiFi. Sure enough, he starts getting pings from Twitter, and the first news site he opens has an article about him living a “Real Life Fairytale”, accompanied by an unflattering yearbook photo to boot. He’d got into it with Brock the day before, and the make-up artist couldn’t cover the bruise around his eye completely. 

(Clint had told him the photo reflected who he was on the inside.)

“Ready, Your Highness?” Fury’s turned the engine off, ready to leave the car. “I’ll open the door for you and walk behind you through the crowd.”

“I guess,” Steve says glumly. It’s not like he has a choice. He wonders if he can maybe ask Fury to drive them back home, but loses his nerve when Fury climbs out of the car. “I’m not going to talk to those people.”

“A wise decision,” Fury says, opening his door.

**

“Steve!” Bucky says, grabbing Steve’s arms as soon as Steve gets through the throng of people outside. Steve’s eyes hurt from the camera flashes, and he’s begrudgingly thankful of Fury managing to keep the reporters and cameramen at bay. 

Bucky looks like he’s been waiting by the school doors after band practice, flanked by Nat and Clint. Nat’s glaring at everyone in the vicinity, and Clint is spinning and wielding his drumsticks like a weapon. 

Steve feels such a strong rush of affection for his friends that it almost makes him cry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were here for you, I thought Rollins finally got caught selling weed behind the premises or something.” Bucky says, face stricken, as he reaches out to touch Steve. “I should’ve texted you when I saw the cameras outside.”

Steve waves a hand, enjoying the comfort of Bucky’s hands around his arms. “It’s okay, Buck.” He breathes in and out, trying to calm himself. Getting through the throng was not the best experience, and Steve almost stopped once to turn around when Brock Rumlow’s voice reached his ears while he was answering a reporter’s question about how he and Steve were _ pals _. It was only Fury’s presence behind him that stopped Steve from running and punching Rumlow in the face.

Behind them, Fury coughs. “We should proceed, Your Highness.” 

“Oh,” Bucky says, letting go of Steve’s arms. He looks up at Fury, the man now tasked to actually _ guard _ Steve, because Steve is a _ Prince_, and getting Steve out of trouble was not an easy feat at all, Prince or no, so Bucky immediately feels a kinship with the stoic man. He holds a hand out to shake because Winifred Barnes didn’t raise no rude son. “I’m Bucky, Steve’s best friend.”

Silence. 

Bucky lowers his hand, smiles nervously. “Not a handshake man, I get it. That’s cool.” And then, for some unfathomable reason, he fires off finger guns. Natasha manages to hide her snicker as a cough. 

Fury just looks at him with his One Good Eye. 

Then Fury looks at the hallway, where the whole school population was loitering around their lockers, sneaking glances at them, some outright staring, recording IG stories on their phones. A few of the students look away, but most keep staring. 

It’s high school.

Steve feels like there’s a huge letter A on his chest. Bucky bumps his shoulder with his in comfort. 

“Uhm,” Parker, a freshman Steve’s helped out a couple of times, walks up to them. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger. “So-sorry to bother, but you’ve been called to Principal May’s office.”

“Oh no,” Steve groans.

His life is about to get _ worse _. Which is quite a feat, considering everyone keeps staring and whispering and pointing while he walks the hallways to Melinda May’s office. Bucky is still next to him, their arms knocking together with every step they take. Steve kinda wants to reach out and grab Bucky’s hand in his, but he figures he’s had enough life changing things happen to him this month.

At least that’s what he thinks, as he knocks on Principal May’s door and waits to be let in.

It turns out that Principal May is actually kind of _ really _ prepared for this kind of situation.

She offers Steve a seat and nods at Fury in acknowledgement while Bucky stays outside, but she doesn’t waste time with chithat or calling Steve _ Your Highness _ or giving any indication whatsoever that she gives a damn about Steve’s newfound princely status. In fact, she seems more irritated by the news vans that blocked her way into the staff parking lot than anything else.

“As you know, Mr. Fury will be able to accompany you to your classes and lunch period,” Principal May says. “We had a new parking pass made that grants you access to the staff lot and will let you park closer to the side entrance of the school. There will be no reporters of any kind allowed into school premises and we will deal swiftly with anyone who tries to break in. You’re one of our students, Mr. Rogers, and we will do our best to keep you safe. That said, we still expect you to be on your best behavior while in this school and to keep up your grades. Your teachers have been made aware of your new situation, but we won’t make any concessions aside from the ones I already mentioned. Is that understood?”

Steve gapes at Principal May. He can’t do anything aside from that after hearing all of this. It takes him a few seconds to process everything and, when he does, he goes straight from confusion to suspicion. “How are you all so prepared for this?”

Principal May flicks an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “We put measures in place when Thor came to study with us last year. You are in the same kind of situation, barring the manner in which you’ve learned about your status, so it was easy to replicate what we did for him for you.”

“Thor?!” Steve says loudly, eyes round in surprise. “Thor’s a _ Prince _?”

Steve can’t fucking believe it. Thor, the exchange student? Thor, his English classmate? Thor, who sometimes hangs out with Totally Spies during their Gifted and Talented period? That _ Thor_?

Steve narrows his eyes. He remembers being sick the week Thor came to school and by the time he came back, no one seemed surprised at the huge blond who spent his time playing a kazoo during G&T. 

“Oh my God. Is Thor Prince Thor of _ Asgard_?” Steve asks, realization finally dawning.

Principal May gives Steve a look like he’s a bit of an idiot and doesn’t answer, which: fair. Thor is like Prince William-levels of known and loved. To be honest, Steve always thought Thor, the exchange student, looked a lot alike Thor, the Prince, but he could never wrap his head around why _ that _Thor would be at his school, so Steve figured it wasn’t him.

“Any more questions?” Principal May prompts, already halfway out of her chair.

Steve has about a million more of them, but none he can ask Principal May. He lets himself be ushered out of the room, almost bumping right into Bucky as they leave the door.

“How did it go? Are you okay? Did you get sent home? How are you feeling?” Bucky asks as he holds Steve by the shoulders and stares at him expectantly.

Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times. When he finally finds his voice, he blurts out, “Did you know Thor is a _Prince_?”

**

The day doesn’t get any better, but lunch is definitely one of the worst moments of the day.

Steve enters the cafeteria with Bucky next to him, and Fury a couple of steps behind them. The moment he steps foot in the door, the whole lunchroom quiets down. Eyes stare at him from every corner, and he can _ hear _Wade Wilson chewing his sandwich all the way from his seat near the back. 

Bucky squeezes his shoulder in solidarity, gently prodding him towards the lunch line.

Steve can feel the eyes follow them, the hairs on the back of his neck rising up at the scrutiny. Wong plops a bigger serving of mac and cheese on Steve’s plate than usual. Steve sighs. And so the changes begin.

He’s about to tell Wong to treat him the same way he always has, when Bucky taps his shoulder and points to the door.

Clint waves at them, signing an invitation to eat somewhere not here and that he and Nat had found the perfect spot. 

“Clint says we should,” Steve stops, conscious of how the whole cafeteria is listening in. “Let’s go.” He says instead, leading the way out of the cafeteria, grip white-knuckled on his lunch tray. 

** 

**[Found in: the margin of Sam Wilson's history essay] **

Princes are not intimidating but one-eyed bodyguards are.

Under it, there is a doodle of a Godzilla-sized stick figure wearing an eyepatch. It looks like it is about to devour a much smaller stick figure wearing a crown.

**

Sam Wilson likes to mind his own business. He’s on the fast track to becoming valedictorian and the way he got there is by keeping on top of his schoolwork even at lunch hour. He’s not about to let _ another _Royal Prince screw up his carefully planned study schedule. That is why, on this fateful morning, after elbowing at least three different people to get out of his way, Sam finds himself on his favorite ever school spot: the rooftop.

The place has everything: a comfortable place to sit, some natural light, quiet, and no Steve Rogers.

“C’mon, Steve, no one will bother us here.”

Sam lifts his head up so fast his neck makes a weird noise, his eyes narrowing on the four — no, _ five _ — figures that tumble into his place without even so much as an ‘ _ Excuse me_.’ Being royalty obviously doesn’t teach people manners.

Bucky Barnes pulls His Highness into the room with the arm he has over Rogers’ shoulders. Romanov and Barton trail behind, which isn’t a surprise for Sam — where one Spy goes, the others follow. What does make him freeze on the stop is the person closing in the group, with his grim expression and shiny bald head and one-eyed glare.

“I need to secure the perimeter,” the man snaps. “Your Highness, it would make my job easier if you’d refrain from running away from me the first chance you get.”

Sam watches in fascination as Rogers tilts his chin up and glares at the scariest man on the planet.

“I was safe,” Rogers argues. “I was with Bucky.”

Sam doesn’t miss the dumb smile on Barnes’s face at Rogers’ words, and can’t help but roll his eyes to himself. Those two deserve each other. Everyone as school just _ knows _ Barnes and Rogers’ got the hots for each other, but they’re both too stupid to see it.

At the conspiratory glance Romanov and Barton exchange, Sam knows they’re aware of it too.

“Yeah,” Barnes breathes out, adoration written all over his face when he stares down at Rogers, “He’s always safe with me.”

Rogers and Barnes keep smiling and staring into each other’s eyes, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Which, _ ugh_. Sam was here first. Sam has no time for juvenile romance playing out before his very eyes. 

“I was here first,” Sam pipes up, and doesn’t feel even a little bit guilty when Rogers, Barnes, Romanov, and Barton all startle. The bodyguard is the only one who looks completely unaffected. “You can go find somewhere else to hide.”

“Maybe you should leave.” Romanov glares at him, green eyes narrowed. 

Sam has to be honest: that glare would be effective on any other day of the week. But today he’s just _ done_.

“No.” Sam glares right back. “I need to finish my History essay. I’m a couple of points away from beating Pierce to valedictorian and I’m not about to let you four keep me from wiping the smug look off that bastard’s face. This is one of the quietest places in school. I’m not leaving just because your boy found out the has a rich grandpa.”

Sam takes a deep breath. That was a long speech. 

“That’s the Prince of Genovia to you,” The bodyguard corrects him.

Sam presses his lips together. He refuses to apologize for this. Even if the way the bodyguard is staring at him is making him sweat.

“I hate Pierce too,” Rogers breaks the silence. “Are you really close to beating him?”

“_ Yes _,” Sam answers. “I’m not gonna let your shiny crown stop me.”

Sam doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but it’s definitely not for Rogers to grin at him and then sit down by his side.

“Nice, I can help you. I’m a good proofreader.” Rogers says. “Steve Rogers.”

Sam blinks at Steve, then lifts his gaze up to the others. Barnes is looking at him like he’s about three seconds away from grabbing Steve by the shoulder and dragging him away. Romanov merely tilts her head to the side in consideration, which makes unease crawl up Sam’s chest and stick in his throat. Barton’s just texting on his phone.

“Sam Wilson,” Sam says, voice slightly strangled. They’re really not going to leave. The rest of the group greet him, and he finds out that the bodyguard’s name is _ Fury _. It’s… strangely apt. 

  


“Now that that’s been decided,” Fury says, leaning against one of the walls and crossing his arms over his chest. “Get to work.”

Sam ducks his head and does exactly that. He’s not about to argue with a dude who could possibly kill him with a pinky. He can still see all of them from the corner of his eye but he tries to focus on his work.

Barnes has sat down next to Steve’s other side, mutinously eating a sandwich, one hand gripping a soda can so hard it gets misshapen. Romanov and Barton—-”call me Clint”—have sat down near the rooftop’s door, backs against the wall. He sees Romanov lean her head closer to Clint, and it’s only his proximity to them that lets him hear their conversation. 

“I need lessons,” Romanov says to Clint.

“...Prince lessons?” Clint asks, looking up from his phone to look at Natasha. Sam can see a game on pause on his screen. 

“Intimidating with only one eye lessons.” Romanov says. 

_ Fuck_, Sam thinks. He sure as fuck hopes not.

**

**[Found in: a receipt at the back pocket of Bucky Barnes’ jeans]**

Scribbles of lyrics and crossed out titles. _ Prince of My Heart _encircled and underlined three times.

**

Bucky tunes his guitar, one ear close to the instrument, fingers of his left hand plucking the strings. Behind him, Clint is tapping away at the drums, rehearsing the second verse of Totally Spies’ latest song. Bucky’s eyes flick to a corner of the Gifted and Talented classroom, where Steve is sitting on a desk next to the window, sunlight illuminating his sketchbook. He can’t help the smile that crosses his face because it’s _ Steve _, with that little frown between his brow as he brings pencil to his lips, fingers flitting over his eraser and moving it across the paper. 

A wad of paper hits the back of Bucky’s head. 

“Hey!” He says, turning around and frowning at Nat, who has an innocent expression on her face and absolutely no pieces of paper on her person. Three years of friendship, and Bucky still wonders how Nat _ does _that. 

“Are we going to practice or are you going to stare at Steve all day?” Nat asks. 

Bucky feels his face heat. “I wasn’t _ staring_.”

“Uh-huh,” Nat says and looks like she’s about to say more, but is interrupted by the Gifted and Talented classroom door opening with a boisterous, “Steven!”

Thor walks in, blonde hair loose around his face, muscles almost hitting the door frame. Fury stands at attention from where he’s standing behind Steve. 

“Friend Bucky! Natasha and Clinton!” Thor greets them, giving Bucky half a hug. Steve was out sick the first week Thor came in, and Bucky was bored enough to volunteer to take the new kid around school. Not that Thor needed any help, but he’s been a good friend to Bucky the past year. 

Thor beams and bounds over to Steve and his booming voice drifts over to the other end of the classroom, random words like _ royal _ and _ palace visits _ and _ civilian life _reaching Bucky’s ears. Steve’s got a patient smile on his face as he talks to Thor. Bucky is dying to go over there and talk too, especially since he knows he won’t get to hang out with Steve as much. Steve’s texted him about “Prince Lessons” which cuts in to their scheduled Steve-and-Bucky time. 

Not that it’s actually _ scheduled_. 

But you know. Bucky continues plucking at the strings of his guitar absentmindedly, wondering if he could switch his work shifts so he’s free in the evenings and can visit Steve to hang out and play video games after dinner instead. He thinks he might do just that when he’s startled by the loud clang of a cymbal.

“Fuck!” Bucky says, shoulders lifting up to his ears. He turns and glares at Clint, who gives him a shit-eating grin.

“Sorry,” Clint says. Bastard doesn’t sound sorry at _ all_. “Practice now, yes?”

** 

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

Hell Prince Lessons @ Hell King Abraham’s 4:00pm

Several sketches of Genovian politicians, each with flame burning in their eyes.

**

Steve’s eyes cross as he reads up on Genovia’s Trade Policy. He’s just finished a _ quiz_, naming all the current political figures in Genovia and their stances. That’s when Abraham brings up the possibility of meeting these politicians at a state dinner, and that Steve will, in the future, be attending state dinners and functions with world leaders.

“Wait,” Steve says, shaken from his angsty stupor about having to learn about all these people. He flexes the hand he’s holding his pencil in, slipping the pencil inside the pages of his art journal. “You mean I might actually meet Trump sometime?”

Abraham hums his assent. “Well, yes. We will extend an invite to the President of the United States on your coronation.”

Steve feels a smirk tugging up the corners of his lips. 

Abraham clears his throat. “You cannot assault any of those world leaders.”

Steve scowls, ready to defend himself. It’s not like he goes out _ looking _for fights.

“Even if they deserve it,” Abraham finishes, looking at Steve meaningfully over his glasses. 

“Oh,” Steve says with surprise, taken aback. He didn’t really expect Abraham to agree with him, even though any and all sane people know Fucktrumpet deserves everything he gets. Steve narrows his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Maybe he can convince Abraham to at least let Steve kick the guy a little.

Abraham sighs. “Yes, Steven. It is our duty to Genovia to uphold diplomacy, even during the direst times.”

“I could trip and spill my drink down his suit,” Steve muses, scratching at his chin. He doesn’t miss the way Abraham’s lips twitch. Nor how long it takes him to reply.

“I would kindly ask that you refrain from doing that,” Abraham tells him. “But in the event that you, for any reason, lose your balance while holding a drink near the President’s head, please be very apologetic.”

Steve has to press his lips together not to laugh, at the same time his stomach flips with excitement and a little bit of delighted shock. Who would have guessed? His Grandpa is as shifty as Natasha.

“I can do that,” Steve promises, straightening his shoulders and trying to look as reliable as possible. He’s already planning his apology speech, which may or may not include him accidentally spilling more liquid on Trump’s shoes.

Steve can’t wait to tell Bucky.

“Thank you,” Abraham says, and then taps Steve’s art journal with a finger. “Now keep reading. There will be another quiz tomorrow.”

Steve glares at Abraham, but goes back to work. He can get through this if it means fighting back against corrupt people in power. Even if by just ruining their expensive clothes.

_ I have to drink orange juice_, Steve thinks. _ The colors will match. _

**

“How were Prince Lessons?” Sarah asks Steve when he gets home, briefly looking up from her book.

Steve lets out a deep sigh and flops down next to her on the couch, shamelessly lying his head on her lap and hugging her legs. “I hate it, Ma. Abraham made me take _ two quizzes_.”

“The horror,” Sarah gasps. She puts her book down and starts running her fingers through Steve’s hair, the motion soothing. “You can do this, Steve. I know it seems boring—”

“It _ is _ boring,” Steve corrects her. “Like, _ really boring_. If I have to read about trading one more time I’m going to throw myself out of a window.”

Sarah flicks him in the ear, making him yelp. “Don’t be dramatic,” Sarah says, and then smooths Steve’s hair away from his face again. “This is your future. You need to learn these things if you want to become a good king.”

“I don’t, though,” Steve grumbles. “I didn’t choose this.”

Sarah sighs and taps Steve on the forehead, silently asking him to turn on his back and face her. “I know you didn’t, but we both know we can’t always get what we want. Or don’t want, in this case.”

Steve wrinkles his nose at her. “But, Ma.”

“Think of all the great things you’ll be able to accomplish,” Sarah tells him with an encouraging smile. “And all _ without _ punching anyone.”

Earlier in Gifted and Talented, Thor had talked to him about all his duties and what he hopes to achieve as King in the future, and as a Prince now, and asked Steve what he’d planned to do. Steve had shrugged, and Thor had nodded in understanding—the duty is a heavy burden to bear, especially when it’s been dropped into his lap so suddenly. 

But the conversations with Abraham, his mom, and Thor are slowly showing him a new perspective. Steve spares a second to feel guilty about all the times he’s come home to his Ma’s worried face when she saw the bruises covering his skin. He knows that with lots of money comes huge amounts of privilege, and he’s starting to see that he can use his new position for the greater good. 

It also helps that me may get to punch—er _ accidentally _spill punch on Trump in the near future.

“I guess…” Steve says slowly, already making a mental list of things he needs to focus on. He’s learned about the politicians and some of the policies. He needs to know _ more _. He can’t go about changing a country for the better if he doesn’t know how it runs.

Maybe Prince Lessons will actually turn out to be useful. Who would’ve thought?

**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

Shield Park - Friday 8:00pm

A close-up portrait of Bucky Barnes singing into a microphone, Nat and Clint playing their instruments in the background. The night sky twinkles behind them. 

**

Steve sits on the grass, absently flicking through his latest notes from Prince Lessons with one hand and scratching Captain Howlie’s ears with another. He’s been absorbing things like a sponge, to Abraham’s ecstatic surprise. Of course, it also came with Steve debating and arguing about certain laws and policies in place, like how Genovia’s age of criminal responsibility starts at _ twelve years old _. There was also an ancient policy about how farmers had to surrender certain percentages of their earnings (aside from taxes!) to the government, something Steve learned that his dad had been working to get rid of (one of Genovia's main exports was plums; no wonder his dad talked about them a lot).Abraham had nodded at him and in their next lesson, had started showing Steve how he could use his soft power to help influence certain lawmakers and the public to help change it.

He was only a figurehead as a Prince and future King, after all. A lot of the change would have to be done with Steve using his leadership skills and not just storming into the parliament and writing and enacting laws on his own. (Bucky texted Steve and told him he should try it once, just to see what happens. Steve is a _ little _bit tempted.)

As Steve flips through his notes and adds more questions to his list to ask Abraham, Sam sits next to him, grumbling about being dragged along to a concert when he could be in bed watching Netflix. 

Steve, Bucky, Clint, Nat, and Fury have taken to eating at the rooftop with Sam most days, who doesn’t give a lick about Steve’s royal heritage. The other students in school had been acting strangely since the news—bowing, opening doors, or generally being a _ lot _ nicer to him than before. Even _ Brock Rumlow _ tried walking with him to class one day and Rollins had offered him a discount on his prized weed. It makes Steve’s skin crawl. In comparison, Sam’s a breath of fresh air. Plus, since he’s in a couple of Steve’s classes, they’ve started hanging out a bit more. 

“Relax, friend Samuel!” Thor says, laid out on the grass. “You have your book, do you not?”

Sam sighs, lifting up_ The Drawing of the Three _from the Dark Tower series. “I guess.”

Fury harrumphs from behind them. He’s playing cards with Thor’s bodyguard, Sif. Sif seems to be winning, if the small pile of pennies next to her is any indication. 

“Our friends, Totally Spies, are truly gifted and talented to be invited to perform for this show,” Thor says, watching as the first band packs up and Totally Spies sets up next.

Steve feels pride swell in his chest. “Yeah, they were one of the first ones invited to play.” 

It’s an inter-school festival, and all around them are students sitting and laughing, eating snacks from food trucks parked along the street for the event. Thor himself has demolished four hotdogs in succession, while Sam has a huge boba next to him. Even Captain Howlie has gone through half the treats Steve brought for him. Steve’s saving his appetite—he’s waiting for Totally Spies set to finish to grab some pizza with them to celebrate (Thor had assured him he always had room for pizza, and Sam just said, “It’s _ boba_, Steve.”). 

The truth is, Steve hasn’t had as much time to hang out with Bucky outside of school lately, unlike before where they’d be at each other’s place or having snacks right after school. He’s got Prince Lessons, and Bucky’s part time job starts right after his Prince Lessons end. It’s not like he doesn’t hang out with Bucky at school or on the way to school—it just isn’t the same as before. 

He misses his best friend. 

Steve closes his notes and opens his art journal, ready to sketch Totally Spies for tonight’s show. And if his drawing’s _ mostly _focused on Bucky, no one has to know. 

“We’re Totally Spies and we’re happy to be here tonight,” Natasha says into her mic, small smirk at the corner of her lips. She’s beautiful, her red hair in loose curls over her shoulder, and her smile promising secrets and a good time. The crowd around them burst into cheers and Captain Howlie barks, his tail wagging in excitement. Clint taps out a beat and they launch into their first song.

Steve’s pencil flies over the page, sketching Bucky just _ so_—the way a lock of hair escapes his bun and falls over his eyes, the slope of his nose, the curves of his mouth. The way his navy blue leather jacket hugs his biceps. The sound of Bucky’s voice wraps around him like a blanket, keeping him warm despite the cool breeze. 

Steve looks down at his drawing and smiles; it’s turning out well today. When Steve looks up again, Bucky is frowning at something on Steve’s left but it’s gone in the next second. It happens so fast that Steve thinks he must have imagined it.

“This is our last song, Codename: SHIELD.” Bucky says into the mic. Someone screams “I LOVE YOU” from the back. Steve cranes his neck and doesn’t see anyone he recognizes. Steve can’t blame them, Bucky in that jacket and those jeans, and Bucky’s _ face _. Bucky’s whole everything really. 

Bucky flashes a grin at the crowd, still utterly, devastatingly charming. “We’re Totally Spies and you can find us on SoundCloud! Have a good night!” He strums the first notes on his guitar. The students from their school sing along. It’s one of the band’s popular compositions, one where S.H.I.E.L.D. is school for spies. 

It also heavily alludes to using the unofficial make-out spot behind the bleachers (the Shield) for hours, so. 

Steve grins as the song draws to a close, pencil tucked in between the pages of his art journal. 

“Next time, I’m bringing earplugs.” Sam says from Steve’s left as the crowd cheers. 

**

**[Found in: Sam Wilson’s battered copy of ** ** _The Drawing of the Three_****]**

_ Pls save me from these idiots _ is written in neat print. Underneath it, an almost indecipherable doodle of a stove and a bucket.

**

“PINEAPPLE!” Clint cheers, both hands raised, as soon as they’re seated around their usual booth in their favorite pizza place. Everyone’s squeezed in together in the U-shaped booth, with the exception of Captain Howlie, who sits at Steve’s feet, which would make getting up to go to the restroom—or just getting up in general—so freaking awkward.

Sam, with his amazing luck, finds himself in the middle of the booth with Romanov. 

(Romanov would probably only need to blink to have everyone stand up and be able to make her way out of the booth.) 

Sam stifles a sigh and looks around the restaurant. It’s a brick oven pizza joint that allows animals, with red brick walls and pretty geometric decor hanging from the ceiling. The smell of baking pizza flows through the restaurant, and that, coupled with the orange lights remind him of warmth and home. He’s been here once with his family, and he knows that the son of the owner—Miles—goes to their school, a couple of years behind them. 

It’s then that what Clint said sinks in. _ Pineapple_. On _ pizza_.

“No,” Sam says, horrified. He’s sitting next to Steve on one side, Romanov on the other. Clint’s on Romanov’s other side, and next to him is Thor at one end of the booth. Barnes, of course, is sitting next to Steve and at the aisle, the bastard. 

“We’ll get two pies,” Steve says calmly, like they always have this discussion. “Bucky doesn’t like pineapple either.” 

Barnes grumbles something, but doesn’t say anything that Sam hears. Steve’s already leaning closer to Barnes, their arms touching in the booth, heads leaning closer together. 

“Make it three,” Romanov says, nodding at Thor and then to the next table over where Fury and Sif are still playing cards. They seem to be betting with a stack of tissue paper now. Sif is still winning. “We haven’t had a crowd this big before.” 

As Romanov, Steve, Barnes, and Thor decide on what to order, Clint turns to Sam.

“Did you like our set?” Clint asks, smiling. 

_ I’d have liked it more if your lead singer didn’t keep glaring at me, _Sam thinks. “Sure, it was cool man. Though I’m more a Motown, R&B dude myself.” He makes sure to speak clearly so Clint can read his lips in case he isn’t heard over the noise of people in the restaurant. 

“That’s nice,” Romanov says, suddenly sliding back in the conversation. She smiles at Sam, and Sam feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise up, like he’s In Big Trouble. At the end of the table, Thor slides out to use the restroom with an apology.

“Are you dating anyone, Wilson?”

Sam blinks, dumbfounded. He’s pretty sure he saw Clint holding Romanov’s hand during lunch the other day (_ and Romanov letting him_), so this can’t be a case of Romanov asking him out. 

When he still doesn’t speak, Romanov continues. “Clint and I are going to go to the movie marathon in Stark Theater next weekend.”

“They’re having a romcom theme,” Clint supplies helpfully, unwrapping a straw.

“Steve and Bucky are going too. And since you’re practically one of us now, it might be nice for you to ask your lab partner to come with.” Romanov says.

Sam sputters. He feels a blush rising up his cheeks, his heart stopping for a nanosecond before it starts up again double time. “Wha—H-how did you know? Wait, we aren’t even dating!” 

Romanov grins, like a cat that caught the canary. She leans her arms on the table, her black sweater a pretty contrast against the light wood. “I know everything.” 

“It’s why her hair is so red,” Clint says solemnly, twirling one lock around his finger before releasing it. “It keeps all the secrets.” 

“What secret?” Steve asks, momentarily distracted from Barnes’ eyes. 

“Sam’s coming with us next weekend.” Romanov says smoothly, stretching back in the booth. “Maybe he’ll ask his lab partner to go with.” Her eyes are twinkling.

“Sam, that’s great!” Steve says, beaming at him. “It’ll be nice to spend time with your other friend out of class.”

Sam opens his mouth, then closes it.

“It’s a date then,” Clint says, clasping his hands on the table. 

“Plus me and Bucky,” Steve adds, patting Bucky on the shoulder. 

Sam stares at him. Was this guy for real? Did Steve really not notice how he and Barnes were basically a couple?? 

Barnes says something which takes Steve’s attention. 

Sam chances a look to his right and sees Romanov’s exasperated expression that confirms his thoughts.

“Are you...trying to set them up?” Sam says in a low voice, leaning away from Steve. 

“No,” Romanov says, rolling her eyes. “They’ve practically set each other up. We’re just trying to show them that they’re already dating, kind of.”

“And you’re doing that by going on double dates,” Sam realizes, narrowing his eyes.

“Except it isn’t working out because we’re already a group,” Clint says, leaning closer and indicating the group by flinging his arm in a semi-circle. There’s a tear on the inner elbow of his jacket. “So it just looks like a normal hangout. But if you go, with a date, and if Tasha and I act more like a couple than usual—”

Sam groans—he just wants to make valedictorian and graduate, damn it—but it’s drowned out by the arrival of pizza and Thor’s booming, “What did I miss, friends?”

**

**[Found in: the bottom of Bucky Barnes’ backpack]**

An old napkin stained with chocolate milk, crumpled, with the lyrics:

_ two worlds apart _  
_ you own my heart _  
_ our love will never start _ _  
my buddy, my pal, my Prince_

At the end of it, there is a simple drawing of a broken heart.

**

Bucky sits down on Clint’s old orange bean bag chair and groans. He scrubs a hand over his face and presses the curve of his palms against his eyes, trying to erase the images of Steve sitting next to Sam Wilson at their concert yesterday. This is the _ fifth time _ Steve’s gone to support Totally Spies and dragged Wilson along.

Bucky _ counted_.

“Cut it out with the sad noises,” Nat threatens him with a well aimed paper ball at Bucky’s head.

The ball hits Bucky on the forehead and falls down to his lap. Bucky stares at the crumpled piece of paper and can’t help but sympathize with it. That’s what he feels like: a sad piece of thrown away paper because his best friend and love of his life has found someone else he likes better.

“Shuddup,” Bucky mumbles, sliding down the bean bag chair with a squeaky sound until he properly lie down on it like the sad sack that he is. They’re done rehearsing for the day, so Bucky is allowed is to rest now and let himself feel feelings. “I have reason to be sad.”

And he _ does_, okay? His heart is shattering into a million of Steve shaped pieces.

“Did your Ma try to patch the holes on your jeans again?” Clint asks with a frown.

Bucky blinks. “Thank you for reminding me of one of the worst times of my life, but no.”

“Then what is it?”

Bucky takes a deep breath, and then whines, “Steve _ replaced me_.”

The words are barely out of Bucky’s mouth when another paper ball hits him straight on the nose. He grunts and glares at Nat, who is currently staring at him like she doesn’t know whether to shake him or strangle him with her bare hands. Bucky doesn’t know why _ she’s _ angry. It’s not like Clint is the one who found someone.

“Don’t be an idiot, you idiot,” Nat tells him. “Steve would never replace you. I doubt he could even function without you around.”

Bucky’s heart squeezes at that, but he’s not convinced. “He’s always around Sam Wilson. At school, at our concerts. Of course he’s replacing me.”

“How did you get to the conclusion?” Clint asks. “Because Steve is always around _ you_. At school, at our concerts, at _ your own damn houses_.”

“Of course he is! Sam is so much more good looking than I am,” Bucky starts, counting on his fingers. “And he’s smart and tall and he hates Pierce. He’s exactly Steve’s brand of asshole and I’m— I’m—”

“Yours is the only asshole _ Steve wants_,” Clint finished for him.

Bucky makes a gurgling sound in the back of his throat and then kicks Clint in the shin. “Clint, this is a _ crisis_. Stop joking around.”

Sam is obviously so much better than Bucky and it makes total sense that Steve would like him, but Bucky can’t push down the sad flare of jealousy that threatens to choke him whenever he sees or thinks about Steve and Sam together. Steve was his first, goddammit. Not that Steve shouldn’t be free to choose people he wants to spend his time with, because he totally should. Bucky just wishes Steve chose him and not Sam.

And true, it’s not like he’s seeing Steve less than he was. There are the Prince Lessons that take a lot of Steve’s time, which is still a bit crazy to think about, but they still make time for each other. It’s just that that time isn’t only SteveandBucky time anymore. It’s SteveandBuckyandSam time and Bucky… Bucky misses his Steve.

“You’re as dumb as a rock, James Barnes,” Nat says, distracting Bucky from his thoughts.

“Excuse you, I have a 4.0 GPA,” Bucky argues.

“Not on subjects of the heart you don’t,” Clint replies. “I’d say you’re failing big on that one.”

“Of course my heart is failing,” Bucky sniffs and throws an arm over his eyes. “Steve doesn’t need me anymore. He has _ Sam Wilson _.”

And Bucky… all he has is a broken heart.

_ ** _

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

A drawing of a palace hall, surrounded by plum trees. In front of the palace stand two boys, hand in hand. One of them is wearing a crown on his head, at a crooked angle.

_ ** _

“I believe it’s time,” Abraham says, hands clasped in front of him. A fresh vase of flowers sit on the coffee table between him and Steve, with plums nestled in between. “You’ve learned a lot these past few months, Steven. I am very proud of you.”

Steve fights down the blush of pride at the words. He shrugs, fingers fiddling with the frayed edges of his art journal. The couches at the Ritz penthouse are plush; Steve always feels like letting the cushions swallow him whole. “I had to.”

It’s his duty.

Abraham looks at him and smiles. “That’s why I believe you’re ready. We shall announce your official acceptance of your title at the upcoming Genovia-United States Friendship Day ball. Then, during the summer, we can have your official coronation in Genovia.”

Steve hears the words, he does. It makes everything start moving in slow motion, his vision going blurry around the edges. 

“What?” Steve asks. “No, no. I’m not ready. I still have school, and then I need to go to university, and I can’t leave Buc—my friends just like that, and my mom, and I still don’t know everything about Genovia—”

“Steven,” Abraham says, tone calm. He lifts one hand up, and one of the attendants behind him place two glasses of water on the table, complete with plum-shaped coasters. Steve grabs his and drinks, willing his heart to calm down. Once he’s set the glass down on the table again, Abraham continues to speak. “You will, of course, continue your education in whatever institutions you and your mother see fit.” 

Steve breathes. 

“The announcement is merely a formality that you are accepting your role as prince. I am, of course, inviting both you and your mother to stay in Genovia during the summer, for you to get to know our country and people before your official coronation.”

Steve bites his lip, his heart falling. But he _ always _spent his summer with Bucky. “The whole summer?” He can’t help the tone of dejection in his voice. 

Abraham looks at him over his glasses. His voice is gentle when he speaks. “I believe you would wish to continue your education here, in America, even for university.” 

Steve nods. He has _ plans_. 

“A couple of months in Genovia in the summer as you continue your education in a different country the rest of the year would be an equal trade. Of course, your friends are very much welcome to visit whenever you wish.” Abraham smiles. “There is plenty of room. We do have a palace.”

Steve perks up. Okay, this didn’t sound too bad. He _ is _curious about what Genovia’s really like; wants to walk around the halls where his father grew up. His heart twinges a little at the thought of his dad. 

He opens his mouth, and thinks of getting introduced to diplomats and politicians and all of Genovia looking at him—Steve shakes his head. “I’m not ready. There’s so much I still have to learn.”

Abraham smiles. “And that’s why I believe you are, Steven. You do not need to be a perfect prince, but a good man.”

Steve rubs his thumb over the soft leather of his art journal. “A good man, huh.”

**

**[Found in: Bucky Barnes’ backpocket]**

A red and gold decorated flyer.

STARK THEATER PRESENTS: ROMCOM SATURDAY

_ 10 Things I Hate About You _

_ A Little Thing Called Love (Subtitled) _

_ Notting Hill _

_ My Sassy Girl (Subtitled) _

_ The Proposal _

**

Bucky likes Stark Theater. The chairs are all La-Z boy-type seats, students get a 50% discount for popcorn, and they show a great selection of movies from all over the world. 

Wilson’s brought a date—Ana, the pretty Japanese girl who writes for the school paper and has that YouTube channel—and they’ve chosen to sit at the other end of the aisle. Good. Bucky won’t have to sit through Steve’s new best friend and their inside jokes. A voice inside Bucky’s head (the one that sounds like Natasha) tells him he’s imagining it, that Steve _ always _includes Bucky in everything and he ignores it. 

The trailers are scrolling across the screen; the lights are still on. It’s another superhero movie. Steve yawns. There are bags under his eyes.

Bucky pokes him on the shoulder. “You okay, Stevie?”

Steve turns his blue eyes at him. “I’m good, Buck. Just had a late night cramming some Genovian history.”

Bucky makes a sympathetic noise. He knows Steve also has Prince Lessons on Saturday mornings now. Steve’s grandfather is hosting a ball soon, where Steve would formally be introduced to the world as His Royal Highness. Prince Steven. 

He wonders if Steve has to marry a princess or a duchess or something, a small sick feeling churning in his gut. 

Steve’s head bumps at Bucky’s shoulder like a cat. His voice is low, mindful of the movie and the people around them. “S’not so bad. Abraham’s asked me and mom to spend the summer in Genovia. See how I like it, if I choose to move there in the future.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, disappointment like a lead weight in his stomach. Summer is _ SteveandBucky _time. He and Steve barely spent summer apart since they met. And now here Steve was talking about a whole summer abroad, and not living in New York, and… he kind of thought he and Steve would just be by each other’s side forever. 

This prince thing really sucks. The lights in the theater dim, and the opening credits for the movie start rolling, the 90s tunes on Dolby speakers. 

“I guess I’ll have to move there eventually, really, but I want to go and finish high school and go to uni here first. NYU, like we planned, right?” Steve says, blinking up at him. 

Bucky’s heart stutters to a stop in his chest. The movie lights flicker on Steve’s face, and Steve’s eyes are so frickin’ blue. He swallows.

“Yeah, definitely.” Bucky says. Steve smiles at him, before leaning back in his seat to watch the movie. 

“Buck?” Steve whispers, not five minutes later. His fists clench and unclench on the armrest between them. “You should spend summer in Genovia with me.”

Bucky almost drops the popcorn tub in his lap. “Really?” 

Steve looks at him and nods. “Yeah, it’ll be fun. I can’t imagine a summer without you.” It must be the way the light from the movie screen is reflecting on Steve’s face, but he looks a little red. 

“I have to ask mom. But I’d love to, Steve.” Bucky says grinning. Behind them, someone grumbles at them to shut up. 

“Sorry, sorry.” Steve throws apologetically over his shoulder. He digs into his popcorn, wide smile across his face. 

Bucky’s grinning too. Things might not be that bad, after all. It’s him and Steve. They’ll be fine. 

When he glances to his left later, he sees Nat tucked under Clint’s arm, her legs tucked under her on her seat. Clint’s got both their buckets of popcorn in his lap. He thinks Wilson’s holding hands with his date over the armrest, but he’s too far away to tell. Steve’s leant back against his chair, eyes half-closed. 

He looks so tired; Bucky’s first instinct is to cuddle him in blankets. He doesn’t have any of that though; and Steve’ll probably rage if he does. 

Bucky watches the movie.

Bucky shifts in his seat.

Bucky yawns and stretches his arm along the seat. Casually. Like casual people do. He hears Nat snorting, even though nothing’s funny on the screen.

Finally, Bucky’s arm rests on Steve’s shoulders. Steve blinks up at him and offers a slow smile, moving closer to burrow under his arm.

_ Suck it, Nat. _

Bucky doesn’t really remember much of the movie; just the weight of Steve against him, Steve’s shoulder digging lightly under his armpit, and the smell of Steve’s shampoo.

It’s perfect.

**

**[Found in: Sam Wilson’s pristine copy of ** ** _The Wastelands_****]**

In pristine block capital letters, ‘WHY ME’ written on the border of page 152. 

**

“Why so glum, friends?” Thor asks, bounding up to them like sunshine. Sam rubs his left eye with his hand. It’s too early on a Monday morning, yet here they all are, on the school rooftop. Steve and Barnes are still probably on their way to school. Sam would still be in bed, if it weren’t for Romanov’s five thirty AM text of_ URGENT!!!! ROOFTOP, SIX THIRTY. _

“We’re trying to get Steve and Bucky to realize they’re basically dating and they should just be official already, all this pining is making my head hurt.” Clint says. He’s lying spread-eagled on the floor. 

"Is this an American joke?" Thor squints at each of them in turn as he sits down. 

"No?" Clint asks, frowning, lifting his head. "What makes a joke American."

Thor shakes his head. "Steve and Bucky gaze at each other like the sun rises and sets out of each other's eyes—"

"I know and it's so gross." Clint grumbles. His head drops back to the floor. Sam almost winces, expecting him to bump his head, but Romanov’s got her hand under Clint’s head in time. 

Clint smirks and mouths, “You like me,” at her. Romanov rolls her eyes. 

"I just want my life back," Sam sighs. “Why am I _ here _.”

“You like us, don’t front.” Romanov says, one eyebrow raised at him.

Sam’s still a little terrified of Romanov, but he’s realized that _ everyone _ is a little terrified of Romanov. Even Clint. He refuses to dignify the statement with an answer. 

“They are really not a couple?” Thor asks, mouth dropping. 

“They’re a couple of idiots,” Romanov says graciously. 

“Give it up,” Sam says, flipping his book open on his lap. “They’ll get there eventually.”

Clint looks up at him. That’s gotta be not-good for his neck. “No. Steve’s going to Genovia for the summer. Steve’s gonna be, like _ officially _ a prince for the whole world in a few weeks. People are gonna stalk him and throw themselves at him. We need them to get their shit together _ now _.” And then, in a lower grumble, he says, “Plus, I really want to see it happen.”

Nat pats Clint on the head soothingly. “Did your recent favorite Kdrama end?”

“Bucky keeps making me watch them,” Clint whines. “They’re so addicting!”

Sam groans and opens his book. Steve’s friends… well, he guesses they’re his friends now too—isn’t that a thought—keep brainstorming around him.

It’s not a bad morning, all things considered. 

**

**[Found in: the corner of Bucky Barnes’ math notebook]**

A crude drawing of a falcon, wings spread and eyes wide, about to be eaten by a bear that has sharp teeth and long, luscious hair.

**

Bucky adjusts the strap of his bag over his shoulder and approaches the huddle in front of Clint’s locker. Nat, Clint, Thor, and Sam are all talking in hushed whispers, heads bent together, paying no attention to the glares the other students send their way for blocking half the hallway and Sif, Thor’s bodyguard, glaring at them right back.

Bucky bites on the inside of his cheek but doesn’t stop his own glare, though his is aimed at Sam instead of the rest of his friends. Because his other friends don’t want to steal his Steve, unlike some Wilsons Bucky could name.

“So this is what we’re doing,” Clint says, not having noticed Bucky’s now close enough to catch the tail end of their conversation. “Everyone agree?”

“What are we agreeing with?” Bucky asks with a frown, only to raise his eyebrows in surprise when Clint jumps so high he accidentally hits Sam on the shoulder with his backpack and crashes sideways against Thor. Sif tenses at the abrupt movement, but with a smile from Thor, she goes back to glaring at the other students.

“I’m gonna put a bell on you,” Clint threatens, one hand clutching at his chest while the other clutches at Thor’s very impressive bicep.

“You’ve gotten better at sneaking up on people,” Nat comments, torn between anger and pride. Pride, because she’s the one who taught Bucky to make no sound when he walks. And anger because… well, Bucky isn’t sure. Maybe she’s upset he scared Clint.

“Really, what are we agreeing with?” Bucky turns to Clint, his jealousy at Sam momentarily forgotten. 

“I thought it’d be fun if we went to Coney Island next weekend,” Clint says, and then points his thumb back at their friends. “Everyone agrees.”

“Oh, that would be fun!” Bucky grins, already making plans. It’s been a while since he dragged Steve on the Cyclone. Maybe they can go on the ride together and Bucky can rub Steve’s back and hold his bangs up when Steve throws up after riding on the rollercoaster. They can even share a mint gum after _ that_.

“See?” Sam says, looking smug as hell. Bucky immediately remembers to resent him again.

“Yes, you’re full of good ideas.” Natasha gives him a smirk and pats him on the head, smiling widening when Sam’s eyes widen and he stills under her touch.

“So you _ also _ agree?” Clint asks Bucky.

“Hell yeah.” Bucky lifts his hand up for a high-five. Clint is happy to oblige. “Did you invite Steve?”

“We thought we’d let you do the honors,” Natasha answers, still smirking.

“I still have to invite Ana,” Sam comments. He grabs his phone from his pocket and starts thumbing the screen. “I’m gonna do that now before Chemistry lab kills me.”

Bucky _ wishes_.

“I shall also invite a date,” Thor announces with a big smile. “I’m sure he’ll love amusement park food.”

“We look forward to meeting him,” Bucky tells Thor, and doesn’t miss the chance of patting him on the arm. “I’m gonna go find Steve now. Bye, losers.”

“You’re the loser!” Nat and Clint yell at him at the same time.

Bucky just laughs. He has a pretty good idea of where he can find Steve this morning, so he heads up to one of the empty basketball courts on the roof. He grins at himself when he catches sight of Steve sitting on the bleachers while he has a sketchbook balanced on his lap and his bangs falling over his eyes. Bucky’s heart hurts just staring at him, his sunshine boy, his plum Prince, his best friend.

Fury’s standing a few feet to the side, one eye scanning the court, always looking for potential threats. Bucky waves at him before walking up to Steve, and his insides turn into total and complete mush when Steve lifts his head up and smiles at him.

“Heya, Buck,” Steve says, shuffling a little on the bleachers to make room for Bucky to sit next to him, like there aren’t benches and benches of perfectly empty spots for Bucky to flop down on.

Bucky is weak, though, so he sits down as close to Steve as possible, their thighs touching, and tries to peer down at Steve’s sketchbook. “Watcha drawin’?”

Steve clutches his sketchbook to his chest. “Nothing meant for your eyes, Barnes. Stop being nosy.”

“But my nose is my best feature.” Bucky bats his eyelashes at Steve. “It’s okay if you don’t want to show me. One day I’m gonna see all your art at those fancy Manhattan galleries and make everyone jealous because I knew you before you were cool.”

“I’ve always been cool,” Steve argues, and then laughs when Bucky throws an arm around his shoulder. 

“That you have.” Bucky leans in close, taking a discrete sniff of Steve’s hair before pulling back a little. “You doing okay?” he asks, since it’s unusual for Steve to sit by himself instead of being with their friends.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs. “Just… lotsa Prince things.”

Bucky hugs Steve closer. “Speaking of Prince things, I got something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“I spoke to my ma,” Bucky starts, unable to stop himself from grinning like an idiot as soon as Steve turns his hopeful blue eyes at him. “Guess who’s going to Genovia this summer?”

“_ Bucky _ !” Steve yells and laughs and throws himself right into Bucky’s arms, pulling him into a bone crushing hug. “Are you _ serious_?”

Bucky laughs, the sound muffled against Steve’s uniform blazer, and says, “Yeah. I told her it’d be a pretty unique and educational experience, but I think she stopped listening after I promised to bring her some fancy palace plum jam.”

“You can have all the jam,” Steve promises, squeezing Bucky tight, before he lifts his head up to beam at Bucky. “This is going to be the _ best summer ever_.”

And Bucky, staring down at his smiling Steve in his arms, can only agree.

**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

A drawing of Bucky resting against a mountain of pillows, sheets pooled to his waist, wearing a homemade Totally Spies shirt. He holds a half-eaten plum in one hand and his lips curved up in a smile like he has a secret.

On his head: a crown.

**

“How are things going with Ana?” Steve asks Sam as they walk through the slow moving crowd at Coney Island with Fury only a few short steps behind them.

They came to the park together, since Steve spent the afternoon with Sam studying for their History test, and now they have to find Nat, Clint, Bucky, Thor, his mystery date, and Ana herself before they can have an afternoon of no History whatsoever.

Sam blushes a little at Steve’s question. “They’re good. She’s… I like her a lot.”

“That’s cool.” Steve grins at him and bumps Sam with his elbow. “When are you going to make things official?”

“None of your business.” Sam pushes him lightly, and then grasps a handful of Steve’s hoodie and pulls him back before Steve falls on top of someone. “Oh, there they are!”

Steve follows Sam’s line of sight, lifting his hand up for a wave when their friends, minus Thor, catch sight of them, but his smile slips when he sees the murderous look on Bucky’s face.

“What’s wrong with Bucky?” Steve asks, more to himself than to Sam. 

This isn’t good. Bucky looks like he did after he finished watching the final season of Dexter: like he wants to chuck everyone he knows out of the window. This is a problem because a) Bucky is one of the best people Steve knows and he shouldn’t have to go through something that makes him feel like this and b) because Steve planned to tell him about the Genovia-United States Friendship Day ball today and… maybe… possibly… invite Bucky to be his date for the night. He can’t really do that when Bucky’s upset about something.

“Must be that his skinny jeans are too tight,” Sam drawls out. “They’re squeezing his downstairs brain.”

“_You’re _ a downstairs brain,” Steve mutters back. Bucky’s skinny jeans are as tight as they should be. They perfectly frame his thighs and his butt and his other parts. Steve would know. He’s been staring at Bucky’s thighs and his butt and his other parts for years now. So it must be something else that’s got him looking like that.

Oh no.

Maybe his ma told him he can’t go to Genovia anymore?

Steve’s heart clenches tightly in his chest. That can’t be it. Bucky would’ve told him before now, probably very loudly and teary and angry, with just the two of them present so they could have a cry about spending the summer away from each other. So this is something _ else _. And whatever it is, Steve needs to do something about it.

So he does something that’s always a sure fire way of bringing a smile to Bucky’s face.

“Guys, I’m gonna ditch you,” Steve warns him, ignoring Sam’s sputtered protests and Fury’s shout at him to _ stop right this second _ before Steve takes off in a dash and unceremoniously throws himself on top of Bucky and yells, “To catch me is your real test!”

Bucky laughs and does catch him, his arms wrapping tightly around Steve’s waist and holding on. “You’re not a fuckin’ Pokemon, Jesus Christ.”

Steve just keeps singing. “_It’s you and me! I know it’s my destiny! _”

Nat and Clint shout, “_Pokemon _!”

Steve grins, staring at Bucky’s smiling face and feeling proud at himself from wiping that murder off Bucky’s eyes. “Hi,” he says, his own arms around Bucky’s neck.

“You’re a punk,” Bucky declares, but his blue eyes are soft and bright as the words come out of his mouth.

“Your Highness.” Fury interrupts them, his one eyed aimed at Steve and giving him a look that would probably pulverize Steve on the stop if he were anyone else. “I would appreciate if you didn’t take off running through a crowd again. Something bad could have happened.”

“Sorry,” Steve mumbles, though he isn’t at all. He had a mission: to make Bucky smile.

“You little _ jerk_,” Sam says, pointing an accusing finger at Steve. “I’ll forgive you for ditching me. _ Just this once_.”

“Thanks, Sam.” Steve smiles. “You’re a true friend.”

Sam rolls his eyes at him, but Steve stops paying attention when he feels Bucky’s arms tighten around his waist. When Steve looks up, he sees the murder is back on Bucky’s face in the form of a scowl and a pout that shouldn’t be as cute as it is, all directed at Sam.

Huh.

“Okay?” Steve pokes Bucky in the chest. 

“What?” Bucky asks him, not taking his eyes off Sam.

“Buck.” Steve gently lays a hand on Bucky’s cheek, his thumb resting on the dimple on Bucky’s chin. He turns Bucky’s face towards him and asks again, “Okay?”

Bucky looks away from Sam to glance down at Steve, and the change is instantaneous. His scowl slowly relaxes, while his pout softens into a sweet and small smile, and he leans into Steve’s touch.

“You’re _ my _ jerk,” Bucky murmurs, and Steve can suddenly feel about a thousand butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

“Yeah,” Steve rasps out, helpless but to agree. He is Bucky’s. Always will be.

And at Steve’s answer, whatever Bucky was upset about seems to have been forgotten. His sweet smile turns into something just as soft, but now pleased. Steve kinda wants to kiss him. _ A lot_.

They stare at each other for a few seconds, and Steve could swear they’re the only two people in all of Coney Island. At least until he hears the big loud boom of Thor’s voice over his head that shatters the moment completely. 

“Friends! Are you ready to ride the Cyclone until we all throw up?” he asks, beaming at all of them, while he holds on to the hand of a pretty long-haired and green-eyed boy. Sif trails behind them, and she exchanges a respectful nod with Fury. “This is my date, Loki. Loki, this is everyone.”

“Hi,” Loki says, his nose turned up. “I’d like to not throw up today, please. This jacket was expensive.”

“_Loki _?” Clint whirls around. “From that snotty international private school in the Upper East Side?”

“Jötunn,” Loki corrects him, lips twitching up.

“Clint,” Natasha sighs. “We also go to a snotty private school. With _ two royals _ . Who go to classes with their _ bodyguards_.”

“Yeah, but the Frost Giants are our _ rivals_,” Clint argues. “This is fraternizing with the enemy!”

“Keep your friends close,” Thor starts with a smile, and then throws an arm around Loki’s shoulders and pulls Loki against him, “and your enemies closer.”

“I’m not putting out if all you can come up with are lines like that,” Loki replies, totally unimpressed.

Thor’s smile stays in place while he wrinkles his nose. “Won’t you, though?”

Steve presses his lips together, but has to hide his face against the side of Bucky’s neck to really keep himself from laughing.

Thor seems to catch on to the movement and turns to them, all happiness. “You two! Does this mean—”

“It means we’re getting something to eat as soon as Ana gets here,” Nat interrupts, giving Thor a pointed glare. 

Thor deflates a little, but then gives her solemn nod. “Understood.”

And just in time, they hear, “I’m here! I’m here!”

Sam turns around just in time to have Ana bump into his side. He throws an arm around her to catch her. “Woah, there.”

“Sorry,” Ana apologizes, and then raises her hand. She’s holding a small vlogging camera. “I wanted to catch some shots of the carousel for my Haunted Amusement Parks video.”

“You like ghosts?” Thor perks up. “I have a friend who’s had some experiences with them.”

“Korg?” Loki asks with a roll of his eyes.

“Korg,” Thor confirms, and then turns back to Ana. “I could introduce you two.”

“I’d love that!” Ana says. “But can we grab food first?”

“We’re not riding the roller coaster after _ that _ are we?” Clint asks as they go in search of greasy park hotdogs and cotton candy. “Because it’d be a waste to throw up all that sugar.”

“Can we stop talking about vomit?” Sam wrinkles his nose.

“Can’t handle it, Wilson?” Bucky pipes up, smirking at Sam.

“Nope.” Sam shakes his head. “I’ve seen too many cousins throw up rainbow birthday cake after jumping on bouncy castles. Colors and sprinkles everywhere.”

“I could go for some funnel cake,” Ana muses. “With ice cream.”

Sam doesn’t know whether to be charmed or disgusted, but he settles for kissing Ana’s cheek and pointing at a concession booth a few ways behind them. “We could go get some if y’all don’t mind splitting up.”

“Bye,” Bucky says, and then hisses when Steve elbows him on the side. 

“Don’t be rude,” Steve whispers. 

“What? Ana should have her cake.”

“She should.” Nat agrees. “We can all meet at back at the Coney Tower in fifteen?”

“Sounds good, Nat,” Steve replies. It also gives him a chance to think about how he’s going to tell Bucky about and then invite him to the Genovia-United States Friendship Day ball. Maybe he could do it in parts.

They all split up to go eat their respective preferred snacks. Steve and Bucky share cotton candy, and Steve does his best not to let his eyes wander down to the pink stain on Bucky’s lips from all the sugar. Steve bets he tastes sweet and sticky.

“You okay?” Bucky asks. His tongue darts out to lick the sugar clinging to his bottom lip.

“Sure,” Steve answers, mesmerized. He wants to be that sugar. Bucky’s sugar. Maybe he should dress up as cotton candy for Halloween next year and ask Bucky to lick him u—

“Steve?” Bucky claps him on the shoulder. “Are you going into a sugar coma?”

Steve huffs and flicks a piece of cotton candy at Bucky. “Shuddup. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Prince stuff,” Steve answers vaguely, and then sighs. “There’s going to be a Genovia-United States Friendship Day ball in a couple of weeks.”

“That sounds boring,” is Bucky’s immediate answer, and then he cringes at himself and Steve levels with with an impressed stare. “Sorry, sorry. But it does.”

Steve gulps. “Yeah, I know. But it’s kind of a big thing.”

A _huge_ _thing_, to be more specific.

That’s when Steve will _ really _ become a Prince.

“Steve, you’ll do great,” Bucky says, squeezing Steve’s shoulder. “Hell, you’re already great at Genovian-American friendships. Look at us!”

Steve groans at Bucky’s silly grin and rests his forehead on Bucky’s arm. “You’re terrible and I don’t like you.”

“You love me,” Bucky throws back. “But really, it’s going to be fine. You’ve faced down bullies and Sarah Rogers when she’s angry. This ball’s gonna be a _ ball _.”

“You’re fired as my best friends due to your terrible jokes.”

“My jokes give you life.” Bucky grins, and then becomes serious. “I’m here for you, you know? I know this is a lot, but you’re still Steve. You can do anything you set your mind to.”

Steve stares up at Bucky, heart so full of love it might burst ”Thanks, Buck.”

“Always.” Bucky turns his hand so he can fit it against the side of Steve’s neck. “You know, we should immortalize this occasion.”

“We’re not carving our names on the table.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Not that. We still haven’t taken our photo booth pics.”

Steve perks up. It’s true, they haven’t. It’s tradition at this point: every year they come to Coney Island, Bucky drags Steve to take silly pictures at one of the park’s photo booths, and each one of them gets a strip. And looking at Bucky now, knowing how much their lives are going to change in the coming year, Steve suddenly can’t go another second without a physical reminder that they’re here and happy and together.

Steve dumps the rest of his and Bucky’s cotton candy and grabs Bucky by the wrist. “Let’s go.” 

It’s a walk to the photo booth and, at some point, Steve lets go of Bucky’s wrist so he can grab his hand instead. Bucky doesn’t protest. Instead, he tangles their fingers together and happily lets himself be led along. 

The booth is familiar to them, so it takes them about two seconds before they’re sitting down and squished together inside the booth, the red curtain drawn, staring at the screen that lets them know when things are about to start.

“Silly faces?” Steve asks.

“That’d be hard. Your face is silly all the time,” Bucky teases.

The first picture, it turns out, is a shot of Steve pushing Bucky away with a hand covering his face. Bucky laughs and grab Steve’s hand and, for the next picture, they’re both smiling at each other, big and bright and happy. What follows are a series of them making faces at each other and the camera, until Steve catches Bucky with a hand on his chin and presses a kiss to his cheek. For the next picture, Steve grins at the camera, arm thrown around Bucky’s shoulders, and so they go until they run out of shots.

Steve almost trips on his feet when they leave the booth, excited to see the pic results. He snatches the two strips waiting for them and waits until Bucky’s standing beside him, staring over his shoulder.

“Looking good,” Steve says with a laugh as he scans the pictures. 

Most of them look as silly as they’re supposed to: eyes-crossed, tongues out, bunny ears behind their heads. The ones with them smiling also look good, and Steve can see himself drawing them later, his and Bucky with their faces pressed together and eyes crinkled at the corners. There’s the kiss picture, which brings a flush to Steve’s cheeks, but it’s the one right after that threatens to steal the breath from Steve’s lungs. In it, Bucky stares back at him, caught between surprise and something that looks suspiciously like awe on his face. His lips are parted and curling up in a smile, and his eyes have a shine to it that Steve’s never noticed before.

“I like this one,” Bucky says, pointing at a picture on the other strip where Steve is doing a scary face and has his fingers pointed up in front of his forehead, like he has devil horns, while Bucky looks the picture of innocence with his wide eyes and serene smile.

“Yeah?” Steve says, but he still can’t take his eyes off that one picture.

It looks like…

“Yup. It truly shows off our personalities,” Bucky teases, knocking their shoulders together. He leans in closer, breath ghosting over Steve’s ear. “Think I can keep this one?”

Steve fights back a shiver and nods. “Sure.”

He passes the strip off to Bucky, keeping the other one to himself. 

Steve runs his thumb over Bucky’s awed face in the picture.

It looks like… well. Steve doesn’t really know. It’s _ really close _ to the way Clint stares at Nat when she’s sharpening her knives and the way Fury stares at the picture of the orange cat he has as the background on his phone, but… This is Bucky. Looking at _ Steve _. 

“We should get going,” Bucky interrupts Steve’s from thoughts, both with his words and by throwing an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “It’s been fifteen minutes already. The others should be waiting for us.”

Steve blinks up at Bucky. At this sharp jaw and chin dimple and fluffy hair and cute nose. And his eyes. Eyes that stare at Steve the same way they always did.

“Sure,” Steve repeats. “Let’s go.”

They find their friends back in line for the Coney Tower and they spend the next few hours going from ride to ride, having fun and laughing and getting dizzy from all the action. Clint and Thor insist they go to the Thunderbolt, and it’s only Bucky’s hand rubbing his back after they get off the ride that keeps Steve from hurling his guts out in the nearest trash can.

“You’re okay,” Bucky murmurs to him. “Deep breaths.”

“Fuck, everything’s spinning,” Clint groans. He has an arm slung over Natasha’s shoulders and eyes closed tight.

“You wouldn’t have this problem if you did ballet with me,” Natasha says, brushing a kiss to Clint’s temple. “You learn to spin without getting dizzy.”

“I don’t think that works for amusement park rides,” Steve muses after he’s sure he won’t be sick. 

“That was amazing!” Thor beams, holding on to Loki who is looking slightly paler than usual. “Again!”

“Oh no,” Loki groans softly, but lets himself be dragged back to the line.

“We should all go to the ferris wheel,” Nat suggests, and then smiles, “so Clint can spin more.”

Clint lets out a pathetic whine and presses his face to Nat’s hair.

“Oh, we should!” Ana turns to Sam, her arm hooked through his, and stares at him from under her lashes. “I’ve always wanted to kiss someone up there.”

Sam grins and rests his hand over hers on his arm. “We can do that.”

“Come on,” Nat pokes Bucky. “You two need to come too.”

Bucky turns to Steve with a raised eyebrow. “Wanna?”

Steve glances back at Nat and Clint and then at Sam and Ana and back at Bucky, the picture still in the back of his thoughts. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They don’t have to wait long in line. There aren’t that many couples waiting, so soon enough Nat and Clint are being locked in, followed by Sam and Ana. Steve flips down on the seat when it’s their turn to get on, Bucky flush against his side. 

“Man, I’ve always loved ferris wheels,” Bucky sighs. “The view is so beautiful from up here.”

“Yeah.” Steve blinks, staring at Bucky. He forces himself to move his gaze, and his breath catches when he sees Coney Island laid before them, with its colors and lights and people. “Yeah, it is beautiful.”

“Today’s been fun,” Bucky says, sliding his hand over the protection bar so it bumps against Steve’s. “Do you think there are any amusement parks in Genovia?”

“Oh,” Steve says, caught by surprise. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask Abraham.”

“We’ll have to check it out this summer,” Bucky tells him. “Thanks for inviting me, by the way.”

Steve scoffs. “Of course. Like I’d want to spend the summer without you.”

Bucky’s face does this weird thing, where it looks really similar to the way it did in the picture that’s currently in Steve’s back pocket. It makes Steve’s throat tight and his heart race.

“I wouldn’t want to spend the summer without you either,” Bucky murmurs. “Wouldn’t be the same.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes out, only to let out a high pitched yelp when the ferris wheel jolts and promptly stops spinning. “Shit.”

Bucky laughs. “Looks like we’re stuck for a while.”

Steve peers down. They’re not at the very top, but they can still see most of Coney Island at this height. “Yeah, looks like.”

“You okay?” Bucky checks in, poking Steve’s hand with his pinky.

Steve hooks his pinky through Bucky’s own and holds on. “Yeah. Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“What is it?”

“You know about the ball,” Steve starts, throat clicking. He can do this.

“Yes, seeing as you’ve just told me a couple of hours ago,” Bucky reminds him.

“Shuddup,” Steve grumbles. “Well, I was wondering… if you’d, you know, maybe go with me?”

“For real?” Bucky asks, the picture of surprise with his round eyes and slack lips and raised brows.

“Yeah, Buck, for real,” Steve replies. “There’s really no one I’d rather have with me. I mean, if you want to.”

“Of course I’ll go with you. I’d love to,” Bucky says. His pinky tightens around Steve’s. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky says, and then frowns. “Do I need a tux?”

“Probably,” Steve answers, throat dry at the thought of Bucky in a tux. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky assures him. “Ma’s gonna be thrilled.”

_ She’s not the only one_, Steve thinks.

And then the ferris wheel starts spinning again.

**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

A sketch of Steve standing. In front of him is a long line of caricatures of the earth, drawn with arms and legs, some with glasses, some with hair. They are all staring at him.

**

Steve rushes out of his front door on Monday morning in time to see Fury calmly stepping back from a man who was quickly walking away.

“Nothing to worry about, Your Highness.” Fury says, opening the car door for Steve to get in. Which tells Steve it’s probably, definitely, something to worry about. Steve hooks his thumbs in the straps of his backpack and looks at the man—he glimpses a camera cradled in the man’s hand. 

Oh. 

“You didn’t break his camera, did you?”

Fury raised one eyebrow at him. “No, I merely spoke to him.”

Right.

It’s not the first paparazzi that Fury’s had to kick away from outside his house, far from it; but there have been a bit more of them lately. Nothing as bad as the first time outside his school as the news broke, but as the Genovia-United States Friendship Day ball draws nearer, they’ve been popping up like moles in a whack-a-mole game. 

Steve slips inside the car. He watches the familiar view of the houses outside as they drive. His heart clenches with a hint of sadness. He feels like he’s about to lose something he can’t grasp, like he’s mourning for something he hasn’t even lost. He doesn’t really understand why. It’s not like he’s _ leaving _. The city’s not going to change. He’ll still live in Brooklyn for a while, go to university, come back. It’s not like everything’s going to change just because—just because he’s going to formally take his title as Prince of Genovia this weekend.

The day when everyone in the world would formally know that he was His Royal Highness, Prince Steven Grant Joseph Grimaldi Rogers Erskine. He’s not going to be just Steve any longer. The world will be watching him. 

Steve swallows. His forehead makes a thunk sound as he leans on the car window. 

Is he even ready for this?

And more importantly, there’s the question of _ Bucky_. 

Steve’s life is changing at 200 miles per hour and he’d thought that at least his relationships wouldn’t, but now he’s not so sure. He’d been content with loving Bucky quietly, not wanting to lose the easy friendship between them, but Bucky’s expression in that Photo From Coney Island is giving him something he’d squashed a long time ago in the face of Bucky’s friendly nature: _ hope. _

It’s gotten him rereading Bucky’s messages, replaying Bucky’s actions over the years, and wondering if there was anything more to them, if Bucky was open to the possibility of _ more. _God, he hopes so. But Bucky hasn’t really changed, his interactions with Bucky are exactly the same as they’ve always been.

But that _ Photo_.

Before he can obsess over it—like he's been doing over the weekend since he came home from the amusement park—his phone buzzes. He pries his forehead off the window to check his messages.

It’s a text from Abraham. In it are details for a feeding program for veterans, an event that would happen the day before the ball. Like Switzerland, Genovia had been a neutral party during the war, granting safety to whoever needed it. The Genovian monarchy apparently held these events before the usual “Friendship Day” celebrations.

_ While attending state dinners and events are part of your duty, we must not neglect our other roles too. _

Steve looks at the list of communities invited. The worry about being ready is still crawling up inside him, but seeing the list and the estimated amount of people coming—people he can _ help _gives him strength. 

He takes a deep breath and texts back, _ do we need volunteers? _

**

**[Found in: Sam Wilson’s pristine copy of ** ** _Wizard and Glass_ ** **]**

A doodle of a bucket and a crown with stick arms and legs holding hands. Next to it are three question marks and an exclamation point.

**

Something changed.

Sure, Steve and Barnes are sitting in each other’s personal space, as usual.

Sure, the four (five, if he counts Fury) of them have infiltrated Sam’s quiet corner of the rooftop for lunch _ again, _like they’ve been doing since the prince tabloid articles came out.

Sure, Barnes still glares at him. But it feels less like “I’m gonna kill you and nobody will ever know or find your body” and more “they’ll be talking about your unsolved murder for years.”

Maybe it had something to do with last weekend at the amusement park and how _ both _Steve and Bucky have their photo booth pictures wedged into the back of their clear phone cases.

Ugh, gross.

Regardless, there’s just something different in the air; maybe it’s in the way Steve is staring at Bucky—still 100% besotted and over the moon in love, but also observing, considering, like he’s looking for something. 

Romanov is also watching the two with a half-amused, half-critical expression on her face. She meets Sam eye over his pastrami and cheese sandwich and raises her brow at him. 

Sam shrugs and bites his sandwich. Steve finishes talking about an event the Genovian Embassy is holding a day before the ball, crumpling his Cool Ranch Doritos wrapper in one fist.

“That’s great, Steve!” Barnes says, ever supportive. “Of course we’ll volunteer! We’ll be there bright and early, right guys?”

Clint nudges Sam with his shoulder. He wiggles two eyebrows at Sam, and Sam is horrified to realize he understands Clint’s eyebrow waggle. 

“I have archery in the morning and Nat has a ballet class,” Clint says, raising both arms above his head and stretching his back. “We’ll follow as soon as they’re over.”

Steve nods and turns expectant eyes on Sam. 

Clint waggles his eyebrows again.

Sam resists the urge to roll his eyes. He makes up an excuse about chores in the morning, and promises to come over as soon as they’re done. 

Steve thanks them profusely, then flashes Barnes a soft smile. “Guess it’ll be just you and me bright and early.”

Clint throws Sam a thumbs up while Steve is staring at Barnes. Sam, inexplicably feels his own eyebrows waggle back. The traitors.

“We’re obviously the best out of this whole lot,” Barnes says, ducking a sandwich wrapper Nat throws his way. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth before leaving home, okay Rogers?”

“That was one time!” Steve says, laughter bubbling up his throat.

Fury makes a small judgemental cough behind them all.

“I was ten!” Steve continues to protest, arms flailing, the group’s laughter drowning out his excuses.

**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ Art Journal]**

**3 REASONS I, STEVE ROGERS, SHOULD PROBABLY CONFESS TO BUCKY BARNES**

  1. I’m not a coward
  2. See: Bucky at the amusement park???
  3. If not now, then when?

Underneath the list are drawings of a Ferris wheel, a plane, a crown, and a gilded throne with a basket of plums resting on the cushion. 

**

It’s way too early in the morning.

Bucky is half-asleep, head lolling on the backseat, hair slipping out of his bun and falling over his cheek. Steve smiles, his hands delicately sketching the way the rising sun falls across Bucky’s face from the car window.

Bucky had shown up at Steve’s, bright and early, hair in a bun and in a light jacket, nursing a thermos of coffee. At Steve’s surprise, he’d grinned and said, “Can’t let you go alone to your first duty as a Prince, can I?”

Steve had grinned back, heart ballooning to twice its size.

So now they’re here, in the car, on the way to Steve’s first semi-official Genovian event. Captain Howlie lies at their feet, dozing. Steve continues sketching, slowly, balancing his art journal on his lap as Fury navigates the early morning traffic. 

A sudden break causes Steve’s pencil to smear a line on the page and Bucky to jolt forward, startling awake. 

“Sorry, Your Highness. James.” Fury says, wincing at the rearview mirror. Steve quickly slips his pencil inside his art journal, wrapping the garter over the notebook. 

“‘S fine,” Steve says. He looks over at Bucky, who’d slouched back in his seat. “You okay, Buck?”

Bucky rubs the sleep out of his eyes, stifling a yawn. “I’m okay.”

“You didn’t have to come with me this early,” Steve says, feeling both grateful and sorry. 

Bucky makes a “pfft” sound, one hand waving lazily. “‘Course I did.” He gives Steve one of his patented Bucky Barnes smiles that makes Steve weak in the knees. “What are best friends for, huh?”

Steve stretches his legs, feet hitting the bottom of the front seat. “Thanks.” His fingers tap an incessant rhythm on his thigh.

“Hey,” Bucky says, shifting closer to him. His hand covers Steve’s, warm fingers wrapping around Steve’s own. “You nervous?”

“That obvious huh?”

“It’s gonna be fine, Steve.” Bucky gives his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Won’t be much different from us volunteering at the soup kitchen with Clint.”

“I know. It’s not that, it’s…” Steve bites his lip, glances at the rearview mirror. Fury grumbles but raises the partition, giving them some privacy. 

They’re probably ten, fifteen minutes away from the venue. Ten or fifteen minutes away from slowly cementing the changes in Steve’s life. 

Steve takes a deep breath. “I’m scared, Buck.” He curls his fingers with Bucky’s. “What if I’m a shit Prince? What if I get into trouble? What if what I think is right isn’t officially, politically accepted? What if I end up disappointing everyone—Genovians, my dad, Abraham, my _ mom_—“

“Hey, hey,” Bucky says, gently pulling Steve closer. Steve lets him, leaning his head against Bucky’s shoulder. “You won’t be a shitty Prince. You are an awesome human being who stands up to bullies. Sure, maybe it’ll be hard—I don’t think you can just punch politicians if you don’t agree with them, which is a shame, really, but I know you’ll be able to do something. You don’t give up, and you’re going to be stubborn about things you believe in, and you’re definitely going to be able to change things. Corrupt assholes and shitty leaders won’t know what hit ‘em.”

A laugh bubbles out of Steve’s chest, unbidden. Bucky grins and meets his gaze.

“I can’t speak for everyone, but whatever you do, you won’t disappoint me.” Bucky says solemnly. 

Steve’s heart jumps to his throat. He grips Bucky’s hand tightly, hoping it conveys everything he wants to say. 

“Even if I run away?” 

Bucky snorts. “As if you would. That’s the one thing you don’t know how to do Steve.”

“Hey!” Steve punches Bucky in the shoulder. Bucky laughs and reaches for his hand, so both their hands are intertwined in their laps. 

“But for the sake of this hypothetical scenario… Sure. Even if you’re a runaway prince, illustrator, fighter of bullies, superhero, plum fairy, whatever you want to do, whatever you want to be pal—I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.”

Steve’s heart settles in his chest. Today, he’s still Steve Rogers and he’s in a car with a beautiful boy. His best friend is holding his hands, and everything—it feels like everything is going to be all right.

The trees and buildings whiz by the windows.

Steve wants to keep this moment forever. 

**

**[Found in: Ana’s YouTube Channel]**

Ana smiles at the camera, greeting her followers. She lifts the camera up to show her surroundings—a park full of people. A dog runs around the area, barking up at squirrels. At the edge of the screen is a long table set up with chafing dishes of food. Volunteers stand behind the tables wearing plum-colored aprons, distributing food and chatting with the community. Ana walks backwards towards the table; the uploaded video has the faces of the people in line blurred out for privacy, but the volunteers faces can be seen. There are a number of teenagers, and as people would later notice, one of them is the Prince of Genovia.

**

Steve, Bucky, Fury, Abraham, and some Genovian representatives arrive right after the first truck of supplies arrive. They get to work immediately, helping set up the tables, chairs, and food. 

A half-asleep Clint arrives a couple of hours later, holding hands with Nat who has her hair pulled back in a bun and carrying her dance bag. Sam and Ana walk in soon after. Thor, Loki, Sif, and a sizable contingent of Asgardian staff armed with donations arrive an hour before the event starts.

Once it does, there’s no room for worries and doubt. Steve works and talks with the veterans, smiling at their stories. Clint is entertaining a group, his hands flying as he signs. Captain Howlie makes a lot of new friends. The day is long and hectic, and it flies by in a sea of stories, bellies full of food and laughter. 

Soon, the crowd thins out and the event ends. 

“How was your first unofficial day, Steven?” Abraham asks. He looks tired but content, emanating a quiet, satisfied aura around him. 

Steve looks at the park, where his friends, Genovian and Asgardian staff, and other volunteers are helping clean up. Ana has her camera out, laughing as she records Bucky throwing a balled up napkin at Sam’s head instead of the garbage bag he’s holding up. Clint is talking to a straggler, their hands flying at the speed of their signing. Thor sneaks a quick peck to Loki’s cheek before he lifts a stack of chairs to bring towards the truck. Loki glares at him but totally ogles his biceps as he walks away. 

Steve thinks of all the people he and his friends have helped out today, however small. He’s not solving world hunger yet, no, but he’s in a position where he can not only help out, but actually has resources to do so. To do more.

As he looks at Abraham again, how his grandfather had exchanged war stories with the veterans earlier, how he’d sat and laughed and worked with no airs at all, doing anything that needed to be done, even if it was tossing out garbage. Steve feels a calm sense of peace.

“There will be more days like this,” Abraham continues. “There will be days of meeting people, politicians and royalty, there will be days of sitting in long meetings, but there will always be more days like this.”

Steve nods. He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “I guess being Steven Grant Joseph Grimaldi Rogers Erskine isn’t so bad.”

Abraham gives a little smile, eyes sparkling. “Yes?”

Steve ducks his head shyly, smiling. “This… I think I do want to do this. Not just because I have to.” He lifts his shoulders into a shrug. “Besides, Steven Grant Joseph Grimaldi Rogers Erskine has a pretty cool grandpa. I wouldn’t want to miss on that.”

Abraham gives him a proud smile. “You are a good man, Steven. I’m honored to have you as my grandson.” He holds his hand out for Steve to shake.

Steve takes it, then envelopes his grandpa in a hug. 

** 

Tomorrow, everything will change.

Everyone’s gone home, Clint taking Captain Howlie with him, leaving Steve and Bucky in the park. They’re lying down on the grass, Bucky with his arms behind his head, Steve with his art journal in his lap, sketching two boys on the grass under a sky full of stars. 

“So this is it, huh.” Bucky says, blinking up at the stars.

“Yeah,” Steve says. He shades in Bucky’s hair, grass tangled in the strands. 

Fury’s at a bench aways away—not within hearing distance, but with a clear view to them. Steve doesn’t add a man on a bench in his drawing. In his notebook, it’s only two boys, enjoying the peace. 

No crowns, no bodyguards. 

Bucky looks over at him and gives him a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about it, Stevie. You’ll be great.”

Steve pauses over his drawing, pencil over the page. He licks his lips. 

Tomorrow, everything will change.

His face will be on the paper, all over the internet. For a while, there would be paparazzi following him, reporting on mundane details of his life. 

Steve can’t control tomorrow, but he sure can control _ now _. 

He takes a deep breath then puts his pencil down on the grass. 

“Hey, Bucky,” Steve says, turning so he’s facing Bucky’s profile. 

Bucky cranes his head to look up at him. “Hmm?”

Steve holds his art journal out to Bucky. His hand is trembling a little.

Bucky’s eyes widen. He scrambles to sit up, facing Steve. He reaches out for the notebook, his hands grass stained. 

Bucky is holding Steve’s heart with two careful hands. “Are you sure, Stevie?” Bucky asks. He looks awestruck. “You never show your notebook to anyone.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, jutting his chin out, unconsciously straightening his back. “Just… promise me you won’t be weird about it.”

“I promise to still be your best friend no matter what kinks you have hidden in here,” Bucky says solemnly.

“Jerk,” Steve laughs, shoving Bucky’s shoulder, the tension in him dissipating. His heart is still in his throat, his stomach in knots, but it’s okay. 

It’s okay.

“I’m opening it,” Bucky says. Steve knows Bucky says it as a last resort for him, a way for Steve to back out if he isn’t ready. 

“‘S not gonna open itself,” Steve says. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

Bucky narrows his eyes at him, then shifts his attention back to the notebook in his lap. The leather is worn from Steve carrying it everywhere. 

He opens to the first page. His eyes take in the page, scanning over every detail. It’s a sketch of Bucky lazing on Steve’s bedroom floor, game controller in his lap, drawn two years ago. 

“Steve, this is beautiful.” Bucky says, turning bright eyes up at him. 

“Keep going,” Steve says. He taps his pencil against his thigh unconsciously.

Bucky does. He flips to the second page. He lets out another exclamation, another praise. 

“Just… keep going, okay?” Steve says. 

Bucky furrows his brows at him in confusion, but does as he’s told. He looks at the third page.

Then the fourth. Fifth, sixth, seventh, eight, ninth, tenth.

Bucky’s gone quiet, his eyes glued to the drawings. This time, it’s his hand that’s trembling, turning the pages with gentle care, eyes taking in every detail. 

It takes Bucky fifteen minutes to go through the whole notebook. It is both the longest and shortest fifteen minutes in Steve’s life. 

Finally, Bucky looks up, mouth hanging open slightly, his eyes full of emotion. 

“They’re of me,” Bucky says, as if he can’t believe it. 

“Mostly,” Steve says, smiling. He clutches his pencil in his fist. There’s Nat and Clint and Thor and Sam and Captain Howlie and Steve there too, but it’s really mostly Bucky. Bucky and Steve. BuckyandSteve.

“Mostly,” Bucky agrees, eyes going back to his notebook. It’s the most recent drawing, with them lying under the stars. His fingers trace over the page. 

“I wanted you to know,” Steve says, gathering his courage and holding it like a lifeline. “Before I become Prince of Genovia officially and all that.”

“Steve,” Bucky says.

“And it doesn’t have to change anything, really, so don’t be weird about it.” Steve says. He knows he’s rambling, but he can’t stop.

“Steve,” Bucky says again, this time with more urgency. His hand wraps around Steve’s, around the fist holding the pencil. “Look at me a sec.”

Steve does, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. 

“You idiot,” Bucky says, laughing, eyes filled with emotion. 

Steve’s mouth drops open in shock. “Hey!”

“Steve,” Bucky says again, his tone sweet and placating. “Did you ever listen to any of my lyrics for Totally Spies?”

“I always do,” Steve says.

_ “Insight? I Could Do This All Day? Not Without You? Prince of My Heart?” _Bucky asks. His eyes are warm as he gently removes the pencil from Steve’s hand so he can tangle their fingers together. “How did you not know they’re all about you?”

And there, for one breathless moment, the world tilts on its axis. 

“Oh,” Steve says. Like a movie reel playing in his head, he sees the G&T classroom and Bucky singing, glancing at him from time to time. Steve’s got his head buried in his notebook, sketching Bucky. The gigs over the years, the different setlists, Nat and Clint rolling their eyes. Bucky scribbling lyrics in the cafeteria and grinning at him. 

Oh. Steve’s heart feels like it’s trying to break free of his ribcage, a loud drumming to be free. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Steve says, swallowing. 

“Go for it,” Bucky says, grin half teasing, half nervous. His palm is cold around Steve’s fist. 

Steve does. 

**

**[Found in: the back of a 7-11 receipt on Bucky Barnes’ desk]**

Lyrics for a new song, the words Til The End of the Line underlined three times

**

Making out with Steve is Bucky’s new favorite thing. It’s better than writing songs, playing gigs, and eating his favorite pie. It sends his skin tingling and his stomach swooping and his heart racing.

Making out with Steve is Bucky’s new favorite thing and he _ never wants to stop_.

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve murmurs against Bucky’s mouth, lips tasting of coffee with a slight hint of mint from his toothpaste.

Bucky ignores him, sweeping in for another kiss, loving the sweet press of Steve’s lips against his own. He doesn’t care about being late to school. Not when he has Steve’s tongue in his mouth, Steve’s hands in his hair, and Steve’s body close to his.

Ever since that first kiss at the park, with Steve cupping Bucky’s face between his hands and slowly leaning in for a chaste kiss that quickly turned into something else, Bucky can’t stop touching him. It’s like all the feelings and all the love he’s been pushing down for the past few years come pouring out of him and all he can do is keep touching and keep kissing and keep showing Steve how much he loves him.

Not even Fury’s disgusted stare is enough to get Bucky to stop.

Bucky loves Steve and Steve loves him back and they are together, _ finally_, and Bucky isn’t going to let anyone bring them down.

“We still have time,” Bucky tells him, peppering kisses to Steve’s cheek and jaw and neck. “We left a few minutes early, remember?”

Steve hums and noses Bucky’s cheek, kissing the corner of his mouth once before pulling back. “Yeah, but we still need to meet the others before class. I have to give them their invitations to the Ball.”

Bucky’s stomach flips at the mention of the Ball. He already has his tux ready and fitted and about 20 different pictures his ma took of him wearing it. He knows how much of a big deal this is to Steve and wants to support him, but he can’t help the nervous excitement that runs through him whenever he thinks about them going to the Ball together. As a date. Because they’re _ boyfriends now _. Like Bucky’s always wanted them to be.

“Did you get your speech ready?” Bucky asks, focusing back on Steve. Steve tenses a little at the mention of it and Bucky is quick to rub his hands up and down Steve’s back to comfort him. He’s also quick to turn into pure mush when Steve instantly melts into him.

“Yeah, I did,” Steve says with a weird expression on his face. Bucky recognizes as the one Steve wears whenever he’s about to do something that could be considered either incredibly dumb or incredibly brave.

Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “You’re not gonna insult half the room, are you?”

“Maybe not in the way you’re thinking.” Steve smiles a little and then bumps his forehead against Bucky’s. “It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t have to tell _ me _ that,” Bucky answers. “I know it’ll be fine. You always give the best speeches during Debate class. You’re gonna shock and awe everyone in that room.”

Steve grins at him, sweet and pleased and with a faint blush to his cheeks. He leans in and kisses Bucky again, just once, short and quick. “Thank you. We really gotta go now, though.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Bucky bows a little, and then laughs when Steve scoffs and pushes him away. “Yeah, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs, because he can do that now. He can call Steve all the petnames and have Steve blush a little and smile and tilt his head up for a kiss. “Do you think Clint will be happy he has to wear a tux to this thing?”

It turns out, Clint is _ ecstatic _.

“Are you kidding me?” Clint grins and pulls Steve into a hug. “I’ve had a tux ready since the Prince reveal happened. It’s purple and beautiful and I’ve been waiting my entire life to wear it.”

Steve hugs him back. “I’m sure you’ll look very fashionable.” 

“It’ll match my black dress,” Natasha says with a pleased smile. “We’ll be the best dressed couple there.”

“Excuse you,” Bucky sniffs, catching Steve by the waist and pulling Steve to him. Steve settles with his back to Bucky’s chest, hand resting over Bucky’s on his stomach and entwining their fingers together. Bucky tries his very best not to smile like a total idiot, but only half succeeds. Steve is _ holding his hand _ and leaning against him because _ they’re boyfriends now_. “The best dressed couple there will be _ us _.”

That’s what they are now: a couple.

Bucky would punch the air and yell out in victory, but he’s gonna save his enthusiasm for the three ongoing songs he’s writing at the moment. They all perfectly capture the feeling of being in love with your best friend and having them love you back.

“You do look good in a suit,” Steve murmurs, eyes a little heated when he stares up at Bucky.

“I look good all the time,” Bucky replies, and doesn’t fight the urge to lean down and kiss Steve again. And then one more time. And another one.

“Gross,” Clint and Natasha say in unison. Even Fury lets out a grunt that sounds suspiciously like agreement, but when Bucky looks back at them they’re all smiling. Well, Fury still looks like he wants to crush Bucky into dust, but there’s a twinkle in his eye that Bucky is _ sure _ is from happiness.

Bucky opens his mouth to tell them as much, but is interrupted by Thor, Sam, and Ana arriving. Bucky hugs Thor and kisses Ana on the cheek and even claps Sam on the shoulder once. 

Bucky can’t help but feel guilty over his treatment of Sam these last few weeks, when he let his jealousy get the best of him. He’s made sure to catch Sam alone on the rooftop so he could apologize for being a huge jerk, and Sam was kind enough to forgive him. But only after calling him an oblivious idiot about three different times, which… Bucky kind of deserves, if he’s being honest with himself.

“Hey, man,” Bucky greets Sam. He pulls his pack close and opens the zipper, rummaging inside it until he finds what he’s looking for. “Here. Thanks for lending it to me. I had no idea what was going on half the time, but I really liked it.”

Sam grabs his copy of _ The Gunslinger _ back and bumps his shoulder against Bucky’s. “Not understanding what’s going on is half the fun.”

Bucky bumps him right back, and then catches Steve smirking at him from the corner of his eye. He turns back to his _ boyfriend _ and whispers, “Shut up.”

Steve laughs. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bucky says, because he does. Steve’s thinking him and Sam are good friends now, just like Steve thought they would be. Bucky would be offended if 1) Steve didn’t have a point and 2) it wasn’t true. Him and Sam are friends now, and Bucky’s glad he got over himself and his petty jealousy.

“Hey, Ana, I have something else for you,” Steve says, handing her a plastic badge with the words PRESS.

Ana gasps and grabs it from Steve’s hand, clutching it tightly to her chest. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Steve says, wincing a little when she yells and throws her arms around him.

Bucky takes a step back so as not to be hit by a stray hand.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Ana squeals. “I can’t believe you got this for me.”

“You want to be a famous reporter,” Steve says. “It’s the least I could do. Plus, Grandpa’s watched some of your videos and he says you have real talent.”

Ana abruptly lets go of him. “The King of Genovia likes my Youtube videos?”

“I’ve come to learn he’s a man of complex tastes,” Steve replies.

“Oh my god,” Ana whispers, and it’s only Sam’s arms around her waist that keep her standing when she sways backwards.

“Thank you very much for the invitation.” Thor chimes in to say once he has his invite in hand. “Asgard appreciates and accepts the friendship offered by Genovia on this day.”

Steve blinks up at him. “You’re welcome?”

“I will also make sure to smuggle some mead inside my jacket, as tradition calls,” Thor whispers.

“You really don’t have to,” Steve is quick to say.

Thor winks. “Sure I don’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go call Loki. He’ll appreciate having extra time to pick out his dress.”

They all watch him go with varying expressions of worry and amusement.

“He’s gonna get drunk and take his clothes off, isn’t he?” Steve groans.

Bucky snickers. He remembers the last Totally Spies show where Thor got his hands on some of Natasha’s vodka and ended the night with no shirt and his pants half unbuttoned.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Clint says, which gets him a nod of agreement from Natasha.

Steve sighs and turns around in Bucky’s arms so he can hide his face on Bucky’s chest. “This is gonna be a mess, isn’t it?”

Bucky holds him close and tight and buries his nose in Steve’s hair. “Nah, sweetheart. This is gonna be great.”

**

**[Found in: Steve Rogers’ breast pocket]**

_You are cordially invited to the _

** _Genovia-United States Friendship Ball_ **

_ on Saturday, May 18th 2020, _

_ at 7:00pm _

**

Maria is there to help wrangle him into his dark grey tux. She also plucks his eyebrows, styles his hair, and puts BB cream on his face. 

“How many people are out there?” Steve asks, fidgeting in his seat.

“Many.” Maria says, one hand keeping a firm grip on his shoulder as she pats the BB cream on his cheeks. “You’ll slay them all.”

What Steve is going to do is _ throw up_.

“You’re going to be just fine,” Sarah whispers to him, as if reading his mind.

Steve isn’t all that surprised she can tell his thoughts from the queasy expression on his face. She’s raised him all by herself for the past 17 years and knows him better than anyone.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Steve confesses, feeling trapped inside his tux. He peeks through the open door and out into the ballroom after Maria is done with him. It’s crowded with politicians and diplomats and the press, and they’re all going to get a front row seat to Steve possibly making a fool of himself.

“Steven Grant,” Sarah grabs him by the shoulders in a strong grip and turns him around so he’s facing her, “you can absolutely do this. I’m not saying this only because you’re my son and I love you. I’m saying this because I’ve watched you grow into a capable and strong-willed young man who isn’t afraid of hard work and doing what’s right.”

“Ma,” Steve whispers, feeling his chin tremble and his eyes get wet. He can’t cry now. It’ll ruin his carefully applied makeup.

Sarah’s expression softens. “You have such a beautiful heart, honey. And such a brave soul. I know this is scary, but if anyone can do it, it’s you. And you won’t be alone. You have Grandpa Abraham and Bucky and your friends. You have me. And I’ll always be here for you, ready to kick the butt of anyone who tries to make you feel like you aren’t good enough for this.”

Steve lets out a choked up laugh and hugs his ma, the tiny crystals of her dark blue dress digging into his chest, and his voice is muffled when he says, “I love you.”

“I love you too, son.” Sarah hugs him tight. “And I’m proud of you. The proudest I’ve ever been.”

Steve takes a deep breath and lets himself relax. “I can do this.”

“You can do this,” Sarah promises. 

“I can_ do this_,” Steve says again, his doubt from seconds before almost all gone. He’s been studying and preparing for this for months. All those Prince Lessons haven’t gone to waste. Grandpa Abraham has taught him everything he needs to know to stand up in front of the world and declare himself Prince of Genovia.

“Hello?”

Steve turns his gaze to see Bucky’s head peeking through the door and then almost swallows his tongue. Bucky’s hair is pulled back in a tight bun, though a few strands have come loose to frame his face, and he’s wearing a black tux that fits perfectly across his broad shoulders and lean waist.

“Hi,” Steve breathes out, unable to keep himself from smiling when he notices Bucky’s eyes sweep over him from head to toe.

“Hi,” Bucky says back, and they both stand where they are, staring at each other, without saying anything.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a minute,” Sarah says with pointed glance in Steve’s direction, “but don’t forget the doors are open.”

“Ma,” Steve hisses, cheeks flushing.

Sarah winks at him, and then stops by Bucky’s side to kiss his cheek and say hello. Steve smiles at them, and then his breath catches inside his chest when Bucky walks up to him and pulls him into a tight hug.

“You doing okay?” Bucky asks, sliding one hand down the tense line of Steve’s back.

Steve, as usual, is helpless under the strength of Bucky’s hug. He melts into it and wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, breathing in the scent of him. “Better now.”

Bucky kisses his neck, and Steve can feel Bucky’s smile on his skin when he shivers at the touch.

“You know our signal, right?” Bucky asks.

It takes Steve a second to get it, and then he groans. “Buck, I don’t need it.”

“Just remember,” Bucky says anyway, “if you want to ditch this place, touch the tip of your nose and I’ll pretend to barf all over someone important. Just like when we were eight.”

“You used to do that to get me out of trouble.” Steve chuckles and kisses Bucky’s cheek. “This isn’t trouble.”

This is Steve’s future. One he’s willing to stand up and fight for despite the knots in his stomach.

“I know.” Bucky squeezes him. “But just in case.”

Steve swallows hard and tightens his hold on Bucky. “I’m gonna do this, but can you stand in my line of sight? I’ll feel better if I can see you.”

“You got it.” Bucky promises with a sweet and lingering kiss to Steve’s lips. “It’s almost time. I can feel Fury’s glare on my back.”

Steve looks over Bucky’s shoulder to the door and yup, that’s Fury alright, glaring at both of them. Steve bites back a laugh and kisses Bucky again, just for good measure, and then steps back.

“Wish me luck,” Steve whispers, straightening his shoulders and getting ready for the speech of his life.

“You don’t need it,” Bucky answers, “but good luck.”

Steve meets Abraham near the stage, sneaking one final glance at Bucky moving through the crowd to stand right in the middle of the ballroom and in clear view of the podium. Steve’s heart settles a little in his chest when he recognizes Nat, Clint, Sam, Ana, Thor, and Loki near him. His friends are here. Everything is going to be fine.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Abraham echoes Steve’s thoughts out loud. He offers Steve a kind and calming smile, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “You’ve worked hard for this, Steve. I’m confident you’ll not only give an impressive speech, but you’ll do great things as Prince of Genovia.”

Steve’s throat tightens and he doesn’t stop himself from taking a step forward and quickly wrapping Abraham in a hug. “Thank you,” he says before letting go. Finding out he’s a Prince has been A Lot, but he’s really happy he got a cool grandpa out of it.

Abraham’s smile widens at the edges. “Always, Steve. Now, I believe it’s time for us to take the stage.”

Steve curls his hands into fists to stop them from shaking and follows Abraham up the three steps that lead to the podium. Conversation stops as Abraham takes his places up front and all eyes turn to them. Steve tries his best not to fidget. When he finds Bucky and their friends in the crowd, all of them giving him a thumbs up, he manages to stay still.

“My fellow Genovians and honored guests,” Abraham starts, “welcome to our annual Genovian-United States Friendship Ball. This is a very special moment, not only for the history of our countries, but for the history of the Genovian Royal family. I have an announcement to make. Today, my grandson, Steven Grant Joseph Grimaldi Rogers Erskine, will proudly take his place as Prince of Genovia. Steve, would you like to say a few words?”

Steve lets out a slow breath and juts his chin out, willing himself to meet everyone’s gaze as he makes his way to the spotlight. This is it. This is the moment he’s been waiting for.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Steve nods to Abraham and then turns to address the crowd. As promised, Bucky is right in his line of sight, smiling so big and so bright Steve can’t help but smile back. “Hi,” he says, forgetting where he is for one second. He quickly sobers up when the crowd titters. “Sorry. I’m not really good at making speeches.”

“Yes, you are!” Clint shouts, not caring that he’s in a room filled with government officials, diplomats, and the President of the United States. Not that Steve cares about the last one either.

A few people scoff, but Steve just shakes his head and smiles, filled with so much love for his friends he thinks he might burst. He sneaks a glance at Abraham, who merely stares back at him with a glint in his eyes and a small smile, like he knows he speech he helped Steve prepare actually lies forgotten on top of Steve’s bed and what Steve’s about to say is something entirely new.

Abraham makes no move to stop him, though. And that’s what gives Steve the courage to keep going.

“My life changed the day I found out I was a Prince,” Steve says. “I was scared, for a really long time, of what that meant. I didn’t think I was good enough to help lead a country. But I’m not afraid anymore.” He glances at his ma, looking so beautiful and proud and happy for him. “My ma helped me. My friends. My Grandpa. They all helped me see that this is not about just being a good Prince. This is about being a good man. This is about using my voice and my position of privilege to help those in need. This is about always striving to do better, to be better. And there is one person in particular I want to thank for always standing beside me and making me want to become a better person.”

“That’s you,” Natasha whispers, still loud enough for Steve to catch, and elbows Bucky on the side.

Bucky bats her hand away and stares up at Steve with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

Steve catches Bucky’s eyes, not daring to look away from him when he says, “Bucky Barnes has been my best friend for my entire life. He’s been with me through playground fights and sick days and band concerts. He’s been my support, my safe harbor, my hero. But that’s not all Bucky is.”

“Holy shit,” Sam lets out, his voice almost drowned out by the whispers of the crowd. Next to him, Ana makes an aborted squealing noise, hands slightly shaking on her camera as she zooms in on Steve. 

“Bucky Barnes is my boyfriend,” Steve says with pride and happiness and a lot of defiance. There are gasps of shock, curses of disgust, but the sound Steve focuses on is the ‘what the _ fuck _’ that falls from Bucky’s lips. “I’m bisexual and I’ve loved Bucky since we were kids. He not only pushes me to be the best person I can be, but he also makes me the happiest person on Earth. So Bucky, thank you for being in my life. I love you. And to everyone else, I hope you have a good Ball.”

Steve doesn’t wait a second before he’s out of there and making his way backstage so he can find Bucky. His heart’s beating so fast Steve can feel it in his stomach. He did this. He told the entire world he’s bi and in love with his best friend.

Oh _ god_.

“Steve!”

Steve almost trips on his own feet when he hears Bucky’s voice. Bucky’s on his way to him, running through the empty hallway until he stops right in front of Steve. His eyes are wide, his chest rising and falling with each breath, and he looks like someone just hit him over the head with a heavy book.

“Yes?” Steve asks tentatively.

“I can’t believe you!” Bucky shouts, only to get a hold of himself and crush Steve to him.

Steve goes without complaint, hugging Bucky back just as tight. It’s the easiest thing in the world for him to tilt his face to the side and brush his lips against Bucky’s. The kiss starts as something desperate, but it quickly turns into something sweeter and deeper, going on until they’re both breathless.

“You love me,” Bucky murmurs like he can’t quite believe it.

“I showed you my sketchbook,” is all Steve can say before Bucky is kissing him again.

“You didn’t say the words, though, not until just now.” Bucky shakes his head at him. Their noses bump together, and Steve nuzzles in, stealing another kiss before Bucky says, “I love you too, you know.”

Steve grins, so giddy with joy he lets out a giggle. “I know. And I love you.”

“I love you,” Bucky says again, pressing kisses all over Steve’s face. “My sweetheart, my Steve, my Prince.”

“My Bucky.”

“Ugh, _ gross _,” Sam’s voice breaks through their love confession.

Steve stops kissing Bucky long enough to see all of his friends standing there, along with Fury and Sif. 

“I thought you said they’d stop being sappy after they got together,” Clint tells Nat, looking the picture of betrayal with his sad eyes. Fury glances at Nat and gives her a small nod.

Nat blinks and then narrows her eyes. “I seem to have underestimated their capacity for being grossly in love.”

“Look at them.” There’s a big sniff from Thor, whose eyes are shining with tears as he hugs Loki close to him. “True love wins once again.”

He sounds so genuinely happy that Steve finds it impossible not to laugh. Here, in Bucky’s arms during the Genovia-United States Friendship Ball and surrounded by his closest friends, right after he’s come out to the world not only as bi but as a Prince, he can’t help but agree.

True love wins once again.

**

**EPILOGUE **

**

Captain Howlie trots past the aisle and settles himself at Fury’s feet. Fury starts talking to Howlie, using a voice Steve’s only heard when he’s on Facetime with Goose, his cat. Goose is being cat-sat by Coulson, who Steve’s met through Facetime, and who’ll be Steve’s bodyguard in Genovia while Fury will be back to guarding Abraham full-time. 

The light for the seat belt goes on, as the flight attendant’s voice comes through the speaker. 

“If you’ll look to your left,” Abraham says from the seat in front of Steve, tapping his window. 

Steve pushes the cover of his plane window up. His breath catches in his throat at the sight below him. 

“Welcome to Genovia.” Abraham says, smiling. 

Sarah squeezes Steve’s hand as they look outside together, the lush greenery slowly becoming bigger, the architecture coming into sight. 

**

The first two weeks pass by in a blur. There’s a lot of introductions, an official crowning ceremony, new protocol, and Steve definitely gets lost in the palace—he lives in a palace!!—twice. The second time leads him to the Royal Genovian Linen Closet, which, is not an actual closet but a room full of linens. 

Sarah seems to be enjoying the vacation, sightseeing around the country and helping in Steve’s charity work. Steve’s slowly getting the hang of things, with some help from Coulson and Abraham and Fury, but at night he’s still glued to his handy calendar app on his phone, that marks down the time when his friends and Bucky will arrive to visit. 

He Facetimes with Bucky every night, and their group chat is as rowdy as ever. There’s one for Totally Spies and Steve, and another with everyone, including Ana and Loki. Ana’s been screaming about her internship, a position she got after the company saw her YouTube content—including Steve’s coming out speech, which apparently just broke 20 million views on YouTube the past week. Thor is back home in Asgard, and is getting followed 24/7 with four bodyguards as he makes appearances at events. Sam is reading another series, and apparently Clint and Bucky have been marathoning Korean dramas on Netflix, to Nat’s eternal amusement. Their conversations don’t make much sense to Steve—

CLINT: Nat Nat Nat I think you and Executive Secretary Kim would get along so well

CLINT: HOLY CRAP

BUCKY: THERE’S ONLY!! ONE!! BED!!

Or

A screenshot of a girl, who had been crying, sitting on a bench with no shoes on, and a guy arriving on a scooter. 

CLINT: They’re totally dating

CLINT: Childhood friends. He comes whenever she calls. 

CLINT: HE JUST GAVE HER HIS SHOES

CLINT: wtf how can they not know they’re dating

BUCKY: RIGHT?? 

NAT: ……..

SAM: [photo attached of Steve and Bucky with their heads together on the school’s rooftop]

STEVE: Hey! 

Steve misses them all terribly, and tries to quash down the feeling of missing out, that small voice that’s saying _ this only happens once, shouldn’t you be there to enjoy it with them? You’ll be a Prince forever but you won’t be seventeen again. _

Steve stamps it out with knowing that he is lucky enough to be in a place where he can help others on a huge scale, and that means a bit of sacrifice. The Genovian Palace has been getting a lot of letters about Steve’s coming out; some angry ones, but there have been many of support—from children, teenagers, and even adults coming to terms with themselves. It gives Steve strength to keep going, doing what he knows is right. 

Besides, it’s not like his friends won’t visit for the summer. 

**

**[Found in: Clint Barton’s backpocket]**

A mess of leaves and a small twig. 

**

The fourth week brings in the plane with Steve’s friends. Unfortunately, Steve’s attending a function with the Genovian Plum Farmers, so the group is left to amuse themselves at the palace, under the eye of Sharon, their designated bodyguard. 

“Holy shit,” Sam breathes as they enter the Royal Genovian Library. The room is massive and filled floor to ceiling with books. Plums and plum branches are etched into the shelves. He turns to look at Bucky, pointing a finger at him. “With all the shit you and Steve did the whole year, you tell him I deserve this.”

Bucky doesn’t get a chance to answer as Sam runs towards the librarian’s desk with open arms. 

“We’ve lost Wilson,” Clint says solemnly. He looks up at Sharon. “Are there any _ fun _places here?”

Sharon sighs. 

Bucky looks around the library critically. “I guess we could always slide around with just our socks on. Race you?” He looks hopefully at Clint.

Sharon groans. With a nod at the librarian, she leaves Sam in the library and heads to the palace gardens with Clint, Nat, and Bucky, where the maze would probably amuse His Royal Highness’ friends—or at least get them lost for a few hours.

**

**[Found in: Bucky Barnes’ phone]**

** _PoH <3: _ ** _ I finally have free time to exist in the world. _

_ Buck, come make out with me. _

**

Bucky leaves Clint and Nat to the maze, walking back to the Palace as soon as he receives Steve’s text. He’s looking around at the second floor, wondering if he could find his way back to the library and text Steve to meet him there, when a hand grabs his jacket.

“Wha—” Bucky looks down at Steve’s snickering face. He grins back and lets himself get dragged into a closet. 

“Hi,” Steve says, grinning up at his boyfriend.

“Hi yourself,” Bucky grins back, hands cradling Steve’s waist. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Steve says, pulling him closer for a kiss. He’s wearing formal clothes, a black suit with white stripes across it, with a waistcoat to match. Bucky falls just a little more in love. 

He deepens the kiss, nibbling on Steve’s lower lip. 

Steve lets out a happy sigh, his hands slipping into Bucky’s jacket pockets as they kiss. Bucky’s phone makes a sound. Steve breaks away, to Bucky’s pout.

Steve pulls Bucky’s phone from his pocket, where Steve’s last message still lay open. A new message icon blinks at the top right. Steve looks at it and makes a face as he hands over the phone. “Why am I saved as PoH?”

Bucky grins. “Prince of my Heart, of course.” 

“Ugh, you sap,” Steve says, laughing, and proceeds to kiss the daylights out of him. They forget about the unopened message. 

Much later, Steve is in Bucky’s lap, hands carding through his hair. They’re still making out like the teenagers they are, when light filters through as the door opens. Steve and Bucky break apart, guilty faces turning towards the door.

Sam has a look of horror on his face at catching them making out again. “Seriously? We're in a palace and you choose the linen closet to make out? A palace!”

“It’s my palace?” Steve tries, leaning into Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky runs his hand through his hair, trying to make it look presentable. It’s a lost cause. 

“Do you have any idea how many rooms this place has? Me neither! That's the point. Go make out in one of them like regular people!” Sam cries, one hand waving his phone around. 

“Technically, it’s a room, Wilson,” Bucky says, one eyebrow raised, fingers now intertwined with Steve’s. 

“It’s a fancy linen closet, Barnes,” Sam grumbles. Then he points accusing fingers at them both. “Do you guys not check your phones? Clint’s sent an SOS, he says it’s drizzling and he’s lost in your maze or something.”

“With Nat?” Bucky asks skeptically. 

“Nat says to just save Clint,” Sam says making an equally skeptical face at the message on his phone. 

“Huh,” Bucky says. His friends either fought, which rarely ever happens—Clint is very understanding, kind, and patient behind his goofball exterior and Nat is extremely observant and careful of what she does and of others around her—they’ve also never fought in public or involved others; Clint actually got lost without Nat, which is likely but Nat not being able to find him seems impossible...or Nat and Clint are planning something. Knowing his friends, the third option was the most likely. 

Steve groans and leans his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder. “I guess we gotta go save your other best friend, huh?”

Bucky sighs a put-upon sigh. “I guess so.” He kisses Steve again. 

“Oh my god,” Sam says. “I’m giving you two minutes, then come out here and help me find our friends.”

Bucky and Steve laugh as Sam closes the door behind him. 

Bucky kisses Steve again, and again, and again. They hold hands as they leave the room and head for the gardens to find their friends. 

Steve is a Prince and he has responsibilities and duties. He also has his mom, grandpa, friends, and Bucky. And he has time to be a teenager, in between helping the world. As Steve looks outside the palace, surrounded by the plum trees and the gravel walk leading to gardens, he knows: 

It’s going to be a great summer. 

**

**[Found in Steve Rogers New Art Journal]**

A drawing of album art for Totally Spies. On the next page, the following is written:

**Totally Spies: A Tracklist**

Insight

Codename: SHIELD

Avengers Initiative 

I Could Do This All Day

Not Without You

Prince of My Heart

Til The End of The Line

( Bonus Track: Lovin' Linens )

**Author's Note:**

> Twitter: [Lenne](https://twitter.com/xlennelx) | [wearing_tearing](https://twitter.com/wearing_tearing) | [talkplaylove](https://twitter.com/talkplaylove9)


End file.
